Wednesday, August 18, 2010


It is the natural law

It will happen

Girls will be married off

Because they have to naturally marry.


When he stepped in


poltergeists of shouldn't haves tore my muslin membranes of discretion.

Meant walking away,

closing the door click shut, quiet

the little trap door of vermilion skin slipping

slithering, the being inside

can't make up her mind.

What women want is simple

acknowledgement of hysteria as legit.

Because paranoia is when

the drop of water, sliding crystal ball of twinkle lights and sparkling clear

on smooth brown skin

feels like the circuitous invasion of snails.

They leave indelible tracks that cannot be bleached sterile.

You see

Everything slips

My hand doesn't write as fast as my naturally female emotional thoughts

when my pencil loses the second syllable.

This is my desire for erasability

Not the wash-offability of ink

black, dark

the fake glee of royal blue

the little glue

of a smile that keeps humanity together.

When he slipped in yesterday

I pretended like I wanted nipple-twisting

nickel ringing

Cracking, uncraving open fissures ka ching!

The swirl in the toilet bowl is not his

this thing I try so had to retrieve and eject

the thing naturally racing to break the eggshell

tadpoles swimming in yolk red.

But women

don't ejaculate.

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