Small Girl Big Devil

As quiet as I was 

your silence devoured me

I was spit into bits 

fed to pigeons

given a lollipop for this cross 

and left on someone’s door

who didn’t like children

so I became a woman

overnight 

in a back alley 

and you looked at your work 

said thy will be done

and fell into deep slumber 

as I crawled away in shame 

Monsters are made 

not born 

there’s still a monster under my bed 

I hear it deep within the empty night 

when dreams play tricks 

and lovers stop 

loving 

The morning so futile 

where I attempt to redeem 

us 

under the blood sun that rises 

over the arch of our terrace 

that hasn’t been used in decades 

and never will 

Since the city has climaxed 

we are spent within her

Alive 

but dead with guilt 

and old with fear 

Yet 

we sit together

numbly silent 

as a tomb

In Poison We Began

Your breath a siphon

of everything me

those late nights 

we plodded through our deadlands 

as vacant as the wind 

your lips a poison 

never matched 

(and we choose our poisons delicately)

Some burst of cosmic gases

from an unnamed planet 

as it flew apart 

fused us 

there isn’t a fiber 

between our skin 

our poison combined 

threaten

all the surroundings 

When I slink out 

from our skin 

I witness us

white and wrinkled 

posed as humans 

we glow toxic blue

in the moonlight 

We fold back

into each other’s poison

scrimmage until the moon

dies 

because we can’t ever 

leave pure things alone 

Sweet Darlings

There was something off

in my mother 

I’m sure I realized this at a young age

We salt our own wounds

to go back and revisit in some nostalgic way 

never does any good 

There’s a heroic bend to events 

we escaped from 

or got out of unscathed 

but it is bent and strange 

hope can be quiet rage in youth…..in the meek 

There are outliers for reasons 

back then I skirted darkness 

it was so natural 

to turn into those monsters 

the same ones I was born to

and some of us morph 

to become a hybrid 

pulling some old dark legacy 

along with a new creeping addiction

I don’t have to call up the dead

to ensure I’m awake nights 

I’ve been awake for decades 

fearing some floating stigma 

that will get me 

at some future point 

If there’s something off in me

the root goes deep 

my road went dark aways ago

I cry forward 

Kitty

The wind ever so lightly rustles the trees

there’s an egg in the blue jay’s nest

Kitty lights a Newport

blows that mint smoke straight into

the fresh morning air

we sit

sludgy and bent

ogle the simple shit

as if life never existed before

the blue egg

before martyrdom

Christ

dinosaurs

it’s all new today

cuz we heeled she says

Kitty coughs

deep and chunky

phlegm flows

over her lips

she wipes her mouth with a tissue

her potbelly ever so round

tits sag down 

while gravity sucks at her nipples

I light a Marlboro

nothin left to fear

that ain’t already spooked us

the egg

divine and speckly

imperfect

yet so pure

can’t take my eyes off it

almost the color 

of a Tiffany giftbox

Kitty grunts

asks who Tiffany is

I just want the egg to open at its time

without a hungry predator lurking

I want that baby blue jay for my own

some dormant motherhood beam

creeks in my dead womb

as if to ask

what happened to the many eggs

I’ve scrambled at the predator’s foaming jowls

A singular cry from the momma blue jay

the mother’s moan 

dates back to Mary

some invisible clock

that stops a heart

when necessary

as written in the Torah 

and we’ll come to it

Hole (For M.M.)

Your Frankenstein chariot

pieced together

from many dead Harleys

The rides to the beach

salt air sprayed us

from both sides of the bridge

and it was a freedom so epic

it engulfed us

Glittered eyelids

black leather

lust like dogs

hunger eats like a hole

we ain’t filling in this life

The bike on the boardwalk

us

staring into a future

we were unable to feed

sucking at the pure moment 

of innocence and death

too naive to know the difference

Boardwalk now is cracked

ripped and busted up

from the many storms 

I walk it alone from time to time

hungry to get to the point

That tipping point

when you and I meet 

as ghosts