5 Poems

Down Like a Shot,

falling into unearthed light, or something like that is
who I was last night. you brought me
a drink you didn’t know the name of & told
me I “could get it.” you, not the drink, which I downed,
even though it was my 9th of the night, the drink
not you. dancehall. always, dancehall. a manner of move
ment learned & not easily lost so I
wind my hips anyway & something is
happening to you. “you bout to start some shit,” & I
say, “good.” not because it would be. I haven’t been touched
in a while. “don’t start something you can’t finish,” is maybe
the worst advice I’ve ever heard, as you drop a handful
of my ass, thudding down a small flight of stairs. that’s
what I am. a small flight of stairs. a small
flight, down.

the mutt misses jouvay by no less than 4 hours

the touch of a man is turning shrill         a cicadas’
final screech        their hard plastic other body falling
dirt bound planting       nothing I sleep & dream       of crowds
of flies wake         up grabbing at my phone for         a name
for an hour      a number for the chill behind me         before me a jaw
of the older           stock prehistoric &    reassembled clenches my neck
‘til it         a rivet a screw in a bigger design         what tool am I I wear
a skirt &         smile the wide way I should be         easy how scratching
lotto tickets be I should                    consider being a lotto ticket an instant
disappointment colored         brightly a tongue               always too far out
the mouth & caught             los angeles lost 63 trillion gallons of water
this year                  that is the name of my home            & what information
can that                       provide me regarding how I sleep or                  how I love or how
I lose my keys I fall                                asleep to Stokely Charmichael saying
“I was born in jail” the land is moving         taller                  creasing against
opposite         slabs like hands forced into prayer                           by the fingertips
that friday night I wore                        the skirt I smiled the wide way the way
of                          deserts in droughts & the guy shoves his tongue in & here I am
not hungry                 this guy this business         job this         “I live in Long Island City”
this inability to salsa at a salsa club             & I respond to her text
2 hours too late & I am afraid                           she won’t respond again that I canceled
too many times for coffee                  that being alone is all I want         & after that,

her

mutt

mǝt/
noun, informal
noun: mutt; plural noun: mutts

1.
humorous, derogatory
a dog, esp. a mongrel.”a long-haired mutt of doubtful pedigree”
a bitch & her litter, no resemblance. a litter. a careless exchange
of possessions. one body inside another inside another without source.

2.
a person regarded as stupid or incompetent.”“Do not give me orders,
mutt.”” a mixed person. “You can be mixed, just don’t be mixed up!” half &
half. bi- ______, multi- _______, & other words for emptiness. cavity. not of
teeth, of canyon. erosion, unmaking the notion that stones do not breathe. that anything lasts.

Haiku: U

Urge unbuttons us.
Around our sun, urgent turns.
Young ruin; round. Ours.

Eulogy for Her

I stood over the body of someone I
was supposed to love. My aunt & her bones
gone brittle. My aunt & her breasts gone, chopped off
at the hardness behind them. No marrow would take.
No cell would align. She wasn’t a nice woman. She left
me no good word to say. Had great legs. Long. Had
a smile I saw in old cheerleading photos. Pulled out
my cousin’s weave once, smashed her head into
a mirror on Christmas. Only one who could make
my mom scream over the phone. At the funeral,
30 men came. All in suits, all made speeches. All said,
“she was the love of my life. I will take
care of her girls.” I stood up there & spoke.
Like them, I lied.