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~
some poems from previous collection, ‘eating the animal back to life’:
[inseparable]
mother is watching a show that keeps her from picturing the gods who portray us. father is choosing an ice cube to bury. myself I am very close to stripping for the cigarette my sister rescued from a baby’s crayon box in a dream that smelled like her clothes.
~
[the invite]
the path of least woman.
not even
my kind
of violence.
father’s faith needs some time alone.
she’s had work done.
the headaches
are real.
~
[claims]
I enter with my small life to profile the impressions you did of my brother. these kids, they cough in photos. as for her, her father’s voice could up and speak at a moment’s notice. I move the gun daily. if my head wasn’t glued on, I’d have lost my ears to the hive mind of ghost forgiveness. my brother liked to play leap frog. fuck art. we live too long.
~
[themes for supply]
thing is, my eyes are rarely bigger than my stomach. mother says I have a face for makeup. I babysit often. victims, mostly, of tooth on tooth violence. my brother drinks to our father’s medicine. water that’s been walked on.
~
[buzzer therapy]
dearest ear,
god is not my fault.
I can hear the worm’s message,
the anthill’s thunder.
revelation comes
once a week
to come out
of its coma. between us,
my rapist belongs to me.
~
[themes for shadow]
when toothpick young you see a snake go mad with second nature and a sponge dragging your mother through nothing’s data
~
[arms]
it is not suicide to bomb god’s shadow. I am the dot my father calls button. my son’s mind would’ve given oxygen too many places to go. his body happened overnight.
