Poem originally published on VerbalRocks.blogspot.com
A sudden sadness poured over me like rotten milk
Clumps of expired memories
Drenching cereal stale from time's quarantined hospital chill
In a destitute urban kitchen with brown stained lines
Parting each other like freeways on a grid
On a tiled kitchen counter
The concrete dusted with cold
And seeds fallen from social service trees
Littering a lawn of ticket numbers
In a line of electrical chords which light this city
In unemployment
A sadness that smelled like orange blossoms
And my features each a petal
Seeing the unimpressed bee whizzing by
And my color fading according to job application
I am a chameleon chained to a stem
The migrant worker took away my fruit on a loan
And so I only produced something bitter the next time
An acid of patriotism washed over me like Vietnam
Suicide bombing myself with credit cards
To survive a Holocaust of dead opportunities
To make it here and stand in this line
Smelling like rotten milk
These are my roots planted on the side of the wide road
A carjack lifted me in the air to spare me
And a bulldozer destroyed to create slumber
Coyotes fled from the burning rubber
To smuggle limp rabbits with their jaws
And that was the first time I knew I had legs
That spot in which I permanently reside
(although I stand here now)
That address of self construction
When I felt the hammer press nails into all but one toe
To bleed 9 numbers to ensure my social security
Amongst what were called equals
But no one else has my 9 numbers
I exist in binaries.
A 1 and 0, with 9 missing, that equals 1 God.
That is all I have.
I ripped away when people began to confuse my debt
For my children and began to slice into them with fruit knives
But I kept my grip,
Unlike the raven who drowned its chick in the river
Or the lizard that threw itself beneath the weight of a leaf of bills
I ripped my foot away and clawed my soul into brown earth
In absolute pain when I felt the seeds crack beneath me
From life or insanity I could not tell, but I felt freedom
When I finally abandoned three trinities
I ripped away and left my limbs as markers
To a place where more than a career or a house or a future
And without mathematics and contracts
I must first learn to build my real name in language
I turned away with 1 toe spared for my identity
Finding difficulty to stand this
Where more than a career, house, or future
I must learn to build my name
With only the glue of my blood
The stubs of horrible American posture
And the smell of rotten milk
This small toe is all I am
A girl who walks upon 9 voids
And one joint of hazy self recovery
Sincerely,
XXX-XX-XXXX
A sudden sadness poured over me like rotten milk
Clumps of expired memories
Drenching cereal stale from time's quarantined hospital chill
In a destitute urban kitchen with brown stained lines
Parting each other like freeways on a grid
On a tiled kitchen counter
The concrete dusted with cold
And seeds fallen from social service trees
Littering a lawn of ticket numbers
In a line of electrical chords which light this city
In unemployment
A sadness that smelled like orange blossoms
And my features each a petal
Seeing the unimpressed bee whizzing by
And my color fading according to job application
I am a chameleon chained to a stem
The migrant worker took away my fruit on a loan
And so I only produced something bitter the next time
An acid of patriotism washed over me like Vietnam
Suicide bombing myself with credit cards
To survive a Holocaust of dead opportunities
To make it here and stand in this line
Smelling like rotten milk
These are my roots planted on the side of the wide road
A carjack lifted me in the air to spare me
And a bulldozer destroyed to create slumber
Coyotes fled from the burning rubber
To smuggle limp rabbits with their jaws
And that was the first time I knew I had legs
That spot in which I permanently reside
(although I stand here now)
That address of self construction
When I felt the hammer press nails into all but one toe
To bleed 9 numbers to ensure my social security
Amongst what were called equals
But no one else has my 9 numbers
I exist in binaries.
A 1 and 0, with 9 missing, that equals 1 God.
That is all I have.
I ripped away when people began to confuse my debt
For my children and began to slice into them with fruit knives
But I kept my grip,
Unlike the raven who drowned its chick in the river
Or the lizard that threw itself beneath the weight of a leaf of bills
I ripped my foot away and clawed my soul into brown earth
In absolute pain when I felt the seeds crack beneath me
From life or insanity I could not tell, but I felt freedom
When I finally abandoned three trinities
I ripped away and left my limbs as markers
To a place where more than a career or a house or a future
And without mathematics and contracts
I must first learn to build my real name in language
I turned away with 1 toe spared for my identity
Finding difficulty to stand this
Where more than a career, house, or future
I must learn to build my name
With only the glue of my blood
The stubs of horrible American posture
And the smell of rotten milk
This small toe is all I am
A girl who walks upon 9 voids
And one joint of hazy self recovery
Sincerely,
XXX-XX-XXXX
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