the alligator beneath my wings

i.

my daddy was an alligator wrastler.

i was never dangerous enough or verdant enough to woo.

i used to try to distract him from his gator grappling

with one girl synchronized aquatic ballets

or dangling baby salamanders from my ear lobes.

listen to me daddy,

see me daddy,

pappa, can you hear me,

as you climb the jacob’s ladder out from beneath our toes as we steal

your amber blush rose cross to the lotus rich marsh in the azure.

ii.

my 2 cents.

illustratins on a stool.

men hide behind words.

women hide below pictures.

word and picture, mythical, magic mirror mirage.

iii.

where is the third nail?

“get off the cross, mary, we need the wood!”

he wonders if it  is late enough at night for morning wood.

he silently admonishes him for being a have playing

he imagines what having him tastes like.

nails across buttocks.

persecution sipped slowly.

the university

on day one, you overwhelmed my senses.

i was a teen on my own from Culpeper,

a dragonfly alighting on your pond’s waves.

supposed to have twenty-four hours, four years.

 

my tiny talk to earn my m r s.

i fail, academic probation, twice.

disgraced, I drag discover 2 1 6.

i danced on speakers, screwdriver, hold

the vodka, in hand sloshing nighttime sun

reflected out by scented body glitz,

pink sequins tube tops, rhinestone tiara.

 

radioactive techno makes me glow.

i strut yellow, passing all brown bag tests.

i reject verdant green in my rainbow.

money’s love rots my teeth and fills my closet.

slip dresses, skeletons fill my walkin.

my heart’s on my sleeve ’cause i like the red.

scarlet poems blow my brain- a break through.

now, my new livelihood programming enters.

 

now, my closet contains an ofrienda.

and, now my broad, heart-filled chest bursts springtime.

Tangental Sounds of a Recovery House

“I’m gonna go play with dese bricks and block.”

“We po’ed all that rubar over in the cut.”

“Gonna get me some ravioli.”

“Not everyone’s bad.”

“She told me I didn’t have to take the test again.”

“All ya gotta do is ask.”

“It’s all donated.”

“This tastes like vitamins.”

“There’s no can opener. There’s no knives in case someone goes crazy and stabs somebody. Nothing but plastic like the pen. Nothing but butter knives and no butter.”

“Laughter heals.”