Paris in the rain

a woman’s life

is too tenuous

delicate

billowy

spider web

close call on I-75

in preterm labor

on the way to the

Paris airport

in the rain

fragile

beautiful

precious

sacrosanct

finite

for bad friends

bad family

bad coffee

bad shoes

bad mattresses

bad jobs

bad husbands

bad debt

and bad dick

learn this by 30 for maximum

enjoyment

future

female

conquerors

of a dying planet

Dinner at the Sizzler

if purgatory

is a soup kitchen line

in a catholic church

hell

is serving up grub

on the corner of 8th & vine

southern baptists

pulling up

in their tax exempt jesus wagon

to serve homeless people

hot chili in july

heaven, happens

in Cincinnati

when pigs fly

My poetry is being held for questioning…

My poetry is irreverent, prone to sentimentality, and prurient behavior.

My poetry hates your mother.

My poetry worships humanity.

My poetry stuck a finger in your wedding cake.

My poetry made a blonde girl cry in Starbucks.

My poetry wants to overthrow the government.

My poetry misses her father.

My poetry screwed your sister in the back of a Chevrolet.

My poetry can’t sing, but she can dance, baby.

My poetry took a shit in your designer handbag.

My poetry is piss shiver art.

My poetry laughs too loudly.

My poetry thinks god has run out of excuses.

My poetry weeps for the dying world.

But mostly,

My poetry hopes

you’re enjoying the ride.

after the quake

trudged out of bed
late this morning
not willing to join
this new shaken world
to find my twin sons
seated on the couch
with furrowed brows
tears in their reddened eyes

they’ve endured bullying at school
for being autistic
the whole of their twenty-year-old lives

how horrified they were earlier this year
when they saw a presidential candidate
make fun of a disabled person
during a campaign speech

now that candidate has won the presidency
my sons asked me,

“Mom, we’re scared. How could this happen?”
“How could Americans elect a bully?”
“How will we be safe?”
“Will we be allowed to go to college?”
“Will we be institutionalized?”

answer them, mr. president-elect…

i am a mother
i am a woman
i will unleash hell
before your eyes

dad’s gonna be pissed

my generation had no great war

until the towers fell

and the government invented one

then we were told

it’s not our fight

beyond the departures gate

at the airport

our struggle is removing our shoes

and grabby TSA agents

we never grew a victory garden

we never salvaged all our metal to make bullets

or watched the soldierly  Vietnam death toll

march across the bottom of our television screens

we were raised by Atari systems, Pop Rocks, Sweet Valley High books,

and Bob Barker’s skinny microphone

so forgive me, my fellow

generationally x’d out americans

if i don’t give a shit

about your opinions on the upcoming election

war makes murderers

there are but three

unchangeable forces

known

in our meager lives

.

history is indestructible

dying

and the passage of time

.

that having been said

no wrongful death

may be avenged

with the death of another

.

if history has taught us

nothing else

it is that

war

makes murderers

of all humankind

 

50 year plan

keep my mother proud of me

 

give my sons braggin’ rights

love in their hearts

and wisdom in their minds

 

be the reason my father’s sooty

fallen angel wings

spread wide

closer to the throne of god

when i do something right

 

perform a poem

at the inauguration

of the first female president

 

allow my  deeds to accomodate

sleeping well at night

 

 

 

you’re so much like daddy, be the death of me

my father died in 1984

i haven’t been able to remember his voice since 1986

and the sound of a voice

is the most precious thing to me

but this morning

your twang brought back synapses who longed for three decades to remember

“Daddy loves you, Alicia, be a good girl”

(and i died a thousand deaths in the minutes still ringing after)

and how five minutes later

out the front door

would go all my mother’s clothing

and our Zenith console TV

thank you for that

saddle up, cowboy

give me immortality

you’re so much like daddy

be the death of me

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