I was wearing brushed soft cotton
banana colored pajamas,
running after dinner on
the hard wood floor, trying
to even the score by
sliding in socks until, I
smacked my forehead
into the coffee table.
Five stiches later, my father
kicked the shit out of the
hard oak as if it were alive.
He fire stormed up and down
the stairs and never swore on
Sundays. But after church,
he turned his hard hands on
my brother and I taking turns
to see who would cry first.
And now there’s my fiancé
dragging me up drunk from
the bed, telling me to look
to look hard at his shiny car
look, at that white pearl girl.
And then he twists both of my
arms, squints and smiles but
all I see are my father’s teeth.
On the Border
A glance in the right direction.
A map with the route gone south.
A granite fish with an open mouth.
Fractured light lifts the body out.
Hard eyes of onyx, gleamed.
Seven sisters ride high in the sky.
A chance collision course, fell off course.
A knotted-up stomach full of rhymes.
Pellets sparked behind stove glass.
The heart skipped a beat too soon.
The sun shined its brilliance
threading a sea of cotton clouds.
There’s power in each lonely hour.
A long distance, lost existence
of space and love’s bad time.