northern italy, 1980s. i unhinged my torso
between afternoon's sun and the grass field
i used to think would bury me
with white roses & your last name on the tomb
in my head our summers are next to right now:
you placed a strawberry between your lips
soft, sour fruit slumped down my bare throat
the one now scorched with acrylic scars
northern italy, 1980s. i no longer recall
how many summers i had been drunk on you
we were hellfires with oxygen-filled lungs
and your touch always felt like the first
our initials on that apple tree, withered.
i dig into my mind until my fingers bleed
for traces of a forgone lifetime, heaven
in your perfume, sins tasting like lipstick
northern italy, 1980s. some years later
i'd wake up in an empty bed, you next to him
polaroids locked, you no longer remember
august night, beneath your body. onwards-
i taste blood instead of strawberries
our apple tree torn down for the better. but
i don't regret the summers wasted next to you
& never the years of melancholy that followed
Over The Rainbow
It was an event
even in our house
where the watching of movies
was discouraged as something related to sin
the Wizard of Oz
in black and white
instilling the belief in happy endings
no place like home.
I so wanted to be Dorothy
and go over the rainbow
playing make believe
I had a loving pup named Toto.
My mother observed this
and hatefully informed me
“She’s not a little girl. She’s a drunk and drug addict with many husbands.”
Later, watching Jack Parr, she came on
I saw for myself what she was
thin frail shaking
forcing the song from her unsteady worn lips.
I was disillusioned for life
losing complete faith
that I’d ever
find the courage, heart and brains
to reach the Emerald City.
He was tall and handsome. Always had a cowboy hat and boots on. He was always a southern gentleman, he could charm the skin off a snake, yes he was a charmer. I guess that’s why my mama fell in love with him, and as everyone knows all daughters at the age of five want to marry their daddy’s if he is a good one.
My daddy was always sweet to my mama, and called me his “Little Darlin”. I adored that man. He was always loving and kind.
Then one day he didn’t come home.
A few days later, the lights didn’t work in our house.
The next thing I know my Papa and Granny have come to fetch us from the flat we lived in and my mama cried a lot.
I was only five years old and the first and only love of my life taught me that I and my family weren’t good enough to keep. That we were throw aways just like these people who get a puppy and six months later decide they can’t deal with it so they dump it.
My daddy dumped us.
It broke my heart so bad that nothing or no one can fix it ever……