The Queen

You stand up there
tall and proud
black and proud
with your nude lace up heels,
cheetah print maxi skirt
with a slit up the side
thick leather belt that
wraps around your black
skin tight leotard
covered by a light beige duster
with big tufts of fur on the collar–
I admire your look
and I admire you even more
after you tell the large crowd you are
68–
and then I admire you even more
as you begin to tell us about your life
how you left for four years
and came back just today
how people had run you out
when they were supposed to have
had your back
were supposed to have supported you
in your darkest, loneliest
most confusing moments
and instead, when you did not fit their
image of the “queen”
(which is what they called you
and you begged to differ)
they pretended you did not exist
and so you asked
(I ask)
what is this then
the program we call
a God-given program?
if we can’t see ourselves in each other
if we can’t remember that we are
all the same
that we all come from the same place
no matter our sexual identity, creed, religion
or lack of religion
and with that crack of your voice
the quavering of your chin
seducing one tear or more tears
out of my eyes
telling us all of your pain and suffering
I heard my story too
and his and her story
and probably everybody’s story
and I thought, well dammit
you are still the Queen
even if you are not in your eyes
but mine
and even if you weren’t or aren’t
the woman we should be bowing to
I still respect you for
being you
and sharing with me all of you
which makes me
a better person–

death

you texted so many times
complaining that you hadn’t heard
from your next door neighbor for days
I awoke to 77 or so texts between you
and our other sister
the worry in your voice
breaking through the tiny words on the screen
I told you to just
fucking call the cops
when it comes to things like that
there’s never time to worry
just time to act
and today
you told us
again
through text
that your neighbor is dead
Your fiancé
found him in a puddle of his
own vomit.
He had either overdosed
or just got sick
while he was
detoxing
41 years old
wife just left him.
he checked in
and checked out
of a rehab.
didn’t like its structure.
wanted to do things his way.
what was he thinking in his
last
final
moments
hovering over the bathroom sink
or maybe
falling in slow motion
onto the bathroom floor?
I hope that last sight or smell was somewhat
pleasurable
maybe that time you got a balloon
when you were 5 years old
flashed before you
or maybe it was one last final waft of
grandma’s cheesecake
before you hit the ground
before you took one
last
final
earthly
breath–

just for today

You make my blood boil 

Like I’ve been sitting on the stove top

My ass on fire 

Yet I refuse to get off

The martyr 

The witch 

the cold demon bitch 

I’ve been waiting inside the bones 

For decades 

For centuries 

to paralyze you in your sleep

Dreaming of ways to keep you fearful 

Wondering when the sheep skin will come off

Hoping I’ll wake up someday 

Hoping I can be happy

Even 

Just 

for 

today–

Trust

this has been an off year.
something about it
always leaves a sour and/or bitter taste in my mouth.
I haven’t had a “good” feeling in a while,
and even when I am among my family
my sisters
my brothers
there is a lingering dread
the one that consumed for years
the one that told me that I’m not good enough
strong enough
pretty
enough
to make it through anything.
They say that a woman is interrupted so many
more times than a man
and that even if a woman says something
it is the man that gets the credit for it
they say we have to love our daughters in such a way
to teach them how to love themselves
without relying on the age-old edict
that they are “pretty”
or
“smart”.
We have to re-learn how to talk to them,
essentially talking to ourselves,
and I find myself questioning my motives
my inner-voice
my intuition
what am i really teaching myself
or rather
what am I really doing?
am I avoiding the lesson I need to teach
in fear that I am repeating the same mistakes
as my mother?
or am i really breaking the cycle,
creating a new chain
starting the beginning of a new line of me?
of us
for
eternity?

In the Sea, Christmas Time

Hanging dangling
angels from a tree
Whisper willow
secrets unto me
Hidden lights
and snowball fights
and unbeknownst
tears alight–
Walking down this
picture lane
of memories
of sights ablaze
The neighborhood
still reminds me
of all the dreams that’ll never be
of all the tiny Christmas trees
of
all
the
stars
inside
the
sea–

My Soulmate

You like my posts
buried underneath
photographs
twixt recipes
and other poems–
As I lay my head on
your shoulder this night
I mused how far we’ve come
not from
standing still
but moving here to there
traveling to the outer space
of our minds
into the sordid depths of
our disease and
then back again
through the healing fire
a prayer heard
a wish granted
sometimes so slow like
the crawl of this express train
sitting
waiting in the dark
looking beyond the black
I remembered how much
I love you
How very much
you are indeed
My one and only
My Soulmate–

Presents

the voices in your head
they said
they said
that the whispering you heard
was about you
instead it was just
a small fraction of the universe
giving birth to itself
again and
again and
again
except you weren’t evolved enough
yet
to accept 
its 
pre
sence–

It felt like–

Tactile movies
slipping under my skin
reminding me of the dirty
streets
and uneven pavement
lonely basements
full of
lonely people
searching for “an angry fix”
looking for someone to fill the hole
unknowingly speaking with the universe
her gift to creator
was anguish and pain
if only someone could make that void
disappear
she might have been able to
move on with her life–
Instead
for now
oceans will cleanse
dark waves
will wash
away
your
teenage
sorrow–

Sick

Bones ache
Hearts break
Uncle’s wake
Fennel cake–

Motherhood

You’ve been waiting for this moment your entire life
dying slowly in the darkness
the morning light too bright for curtains
we hung up black sheets to block out
the rising sun
how many days and nights had passed
we never knew
just ripping out the damaged innards
to fill the void with something else:
pain, suffering, hollow denial
my eyes closed
eyelids drooped
Dropped
Fuzzy haze
Missed appointments
Wax candles
and nothing else
and yet
a glimmer of hope was there
behind that same curtain
Yes
Inside of me
Buried deep within
Beyond the void
we knew there was a different way
on that faint horizon
where
and when
we didn’t know either
or if ever
really
Yet time after time
in cold or soiled sheets
and sleepless nights
another go around
utter disillusionment
wickedly masked as pure
joy
white knuckle after
hard white knuckle
I somehow find myself
on the other side of the green
universe
not questioning how I got here
instead calling
on the ancient masters
and asking for
another bit of help
not in the same way I
asked for relief before
but in complete surrender
and humility to guide me to a new birth
and a new dawn
a new life
in what way
can I ever repay
you and thank
you for
this
awesome
gift
of
motherhood?