Gender Pants
I'll wear the pants today
I need to get shit done
There's bills
There's pills
There's window sills, all splintering beneath nails as I try to hold our home together
You'll wear the pants today
You need to get shit done
There's your boss
There's salary loss
There's the toss up of whether to commute or stick it out, and I'll support you either way
I'll get in your pants today
We need to work shit out
I'll top
You'll pop
I'll stop when you say, just let me hold you after and I'll know we're doing okay
We'll lose the pants today
We've gotten a lot of shit done
We'll play
We'll slay
We'll say all the things on our minds while we dream about another lazy afternoon
Fuck whose pants they are today
After all the shit we've gone through
We alive
We jive
We strive to be the best for each other, and who cares which roles we play
What have I lost.
No... what have we lost.
We have lost so much, and I wish I could say that we will always remeber.
But we won't.
Because over time, our memory fades, and so does every other living thing.
We may have pictures or little trinkets of them to remind us.
But pictures and little trinkets get lost too.
Malinger
Kenny held the reading lamp to his forehead until the last possible minute. He heard his mothet coming down the hall and switched it off.
His door opened and his mother's head appeared. “Up and at ’em," she said. "You’ll miss your bus and I can’t take you.”
“I don’t feel well,” he croaked, keeping his eyes closed. “My head hurts.”
She came to the bedside and felt his head. “You’re a little warm.”
“Only a little? I feel like I’m burning up.”
“I don’t have time to find the thermometer,” she said, exasperated. “I’m late as it is.”
“I think I need to throw up.”
“Jesus. Not on my dress.” She brought the trash can over and set it by the bed.
“Try to aim, okay?” She went back down the hall to the bathroom. “I’m almost done in here,” she called.
He raised his head and listened. She was fumbling around in a drawer. She’d been wearing a lot of makeup since she started dating Jim a couple months back. Kenny was pretty sure they were doing it. They’d sure seemed eager for him to go to bed last night. As usual, Jim was gone by morning.
He thought about using the lamp again, but she was coming down the hall. He leaned over the trash can and retched. She stood in the doorway looking at him. He lay back and groaned, gave her a feeble smile. “Hi Mommy,” he whispered.
That did it. The skepticism vanished from her face. “Oh, you poor thing. But really, Kenny, you’ve missed so much school this year.”
“I can’t help if I’m sick,” he whined. “There’s a stomach flu going around.” He retched again, slid the bucket closer. He kept it up until he heard her heels clicking on the hall tile.
“I’ll call the school from the office. But seriously, Kenny. This is the last time.”
He thrust out his lip. “I really feel sick, mommy. Really.”
She stared at him a second, then bent to kiss his sweaty forehead. “Feel better.”
He felt bad for lying to her. She really was his mommy, and here he was lying. She wanted what was best for him, was going off to work so she could support him. So what if she had a boyfriend? It wasn’t like his dad was coming back. His dad had lied to her plenty, and now he was doing it too.
Right there he made up his mind that he wasn’t going to lie to her ever again.
Hold, Hold, Let Go
Holding a knife's edge
it draws crimson droplets
that swiftly form a sea of red
It puddles beneath the hand
and still the grip tightens
Anger, Guilt, Passion, Hatred
Reasons to never let go
When memory fails
bitterness remains in its wake
The knife cuts only you though.
Or its dropped
and Relief is felt in a swift wave
washing over you
healing you from the reason
you couldn't let go
The weight lifts and floats away
the chains unlocked
and you can soar higher now
as long as memory remains away
Pride and power come
from letting go
an invisible crown you wear
Succeeding, finally, at years' long goal
But maybe memory still holds it.
