Poems
scrolling Revolve for my friend's wedding
I think we can learn a lot
from the salt water oyster
who welcomes the parasite
that enters its cracks
and burrows into its soft bits.
Instead of rejecting it,
it coats it with thin layer
after thin layer
of nacre
until it shines—
only for another to pry it open
rip it from its insides
chuck the carcass
and wear it around the neck
for a pretty penny
and a compliment.
the woman from apartment 2D
I made love
under
the stairwell
with the soul
of the woman
from apartment 2D
who decided
to take the dogs out
at midnight
on a Friday
and walked in
on his dick
against my lips.
She had brown hair
always in a 90s scrunchie,
and four little dogs,
with matted fur,
an old couch she
offered me once,
and I wanted to run
into her arms
and say, finally
you’re here,
you have
no idea
the day I’ve had,
can we heat up
the tea pot
and curl up
on that couch of yours
and watch some reruns
of Law & Order,
while your dog
with the tongue
that doesn’t fit
in his mouth
pants heavily
on my lap?
creosote
In phoenix, Freda sits
in her peach loveseat,
bowl of ice resting
firmly in her lap
the desert heat
is white hot, deaf
you can practically hear
children pressing
their flushed cheeks
to the concrete floor
she still wears nylons
her toes twist
around each other
like carrots, planted
too close together
she tells her grandkids
of the jackalope
who scares even the coyotes
and the javelina, she says
you’ll smell well before
you catch a glimpse
she never told a soul
of the man from buckeye
who drove her to
planned parenthood
1947, a mere mirage
like that on the base
of the superstition mountains
that summer in tanque verde
he burned his back
on the chevy’s seatbelt,
tang of sweat
and tongues
stained from watermelon eegee’s
and crinkle-cut fries
in the valley
where the camel rests
in the center of town
and the saguaro can live
for two centuries,
just know: there are monsoons
but once the roof quiets
the creosote sings
the adobe turns pink
the jackrabbit wriggles its nose
and dries its cheeks.
petersburg, 2017
Sometimes I dream
I’m back in Masha’s flat
the night I took my last cab
through Moskovksy Prospekt
cherry-red lipstick on my cheek.
Nastya, in her pink eyeliner, trench coat
rolling a cherry tobacco cigarette,
twinkle in the darks of her eyes
like that of a mischievous child
about to touch something she is
not supposed to, I like how it looks,
to smoke, can you take a picture?
Masha, in her red beret and turtleneck,
setting out a plate of soft cheese,
green grapes, ripe banana
and pouring three glasses of table wine
from Abkhazeti, as she asks me
if I’ve ever considered
taking my clothes off on camera.
Nastya, throwing her head back
laughing as they look at each other,
eyes glimmering in the yellow candle light.
Sometimes I dream about saying yes.
Word Snacks
Treats for all ages.
Strangers in a jacuzzi
But if I asked you
to take a bath together
you'd probably say no
Hippopotomous words
If you're scared of big words, don't look!
Close your eyes! Plug your ears!
There’s a word for what you have, hon
and, I’m sorry to say:
it’s a really long one…
Don't go bananas, but...
Psst! Come closer!
OK listen up…
I got something to tell ya…
Top secret stuff…
If you pack a banana in your lunch
next to your pretzels
or crackers
or especially…chips…
It will make everything
smell
and taste
like bananas…
Didn’t hear it from me…
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Elainer Complainer
Oh, dear! Would you please lend me your ear?
There’s a snail in my kale
A chicken in the kitchen
Crumbs on my thumbs
Beets on my feets
Eggs on my legs
Dirt on my shirt
Parm on my arm
Sand on my hand
Peas on my knees
Flies in my eyes––
And the world feels like
One giant fart in my heart!!!
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What if I can't?
Well, lookie here, that can’t be true—
You’ve got “can-do” living right inside of you!
Your parents and theirs
and the ones before them, too,
learned a whole life
and passed it down to you!
So take it from me: take away that “T”
Turn can’t into can and see who you’ll be!