A Tandem For Tumors
As malignance feasts
I matter much less to you
Holding you hostage
I’ll pick them out with a fork
And redeem your mind
Por Hombre o Por Bestia
These coral grey days brim with mindful neglect
Slap slap slapping of tails and faces and fins but no one seems to mind.
Need to’s and should do’s inflate
And scurry silently up the walls
Congregating in the cobwebs
Some days ago I’d have had a fit.
Shaken from my origins
Salmon snap at pellets in their steel drums
Now muted and flattened
He said apathy is the first step towards nothingness and Baby,
I’ve got an express ticket there
Reclamation isn’t impossible, no
Just stones in your bathing suit, shuffling underwater
Just working up the nerve to slap the paleta man after he grabs your ass
But I’ll get there someday
Por hombre o por bestia.
emaciated, angelic manboy
you grasp for me under sheets
of childlike absolutism
of “I’m in it with you”
Heaviness once took her fat ass
and tried to flatten us
but we poised trebuchets
and played sardines
until she took her girthy business elsewhere
we can finally just be.
Cease and Desist
spooning you sentiments
with a cream lacquered ladle
burning to squeeze
sugar charred cheeks
tap, tap with the back
of a spoon and a crack
shatters, gives way to
saccharine, tangerine sinew
you beg to be bundled
and slipped into my cochlea
so some warm, pink closeness
can coalesce undisturbed
the second I oblige you’ll claw your way out
shredding my eardrums
to stand autonomously ashen
for the sands to erode
t00thy shag swag
saunter in your cavern
to collect clouds of jazzy kingdoms for Terre
Lo Siento, IThought I Told You IKnew Popcorn Ceilings Were Bad For Balloons.
Way to go, enlightening me after three of my five helium globos have flown to their death.
Flying too high to the sun I suppose
You don’t get my reference, I don’t really care.
But papi, come a little closer and show me how you tie them
Like cherry stems into pretzelitos,
hecho de tu lengua.
I don’t tell you about the trick
That I’ve tried over thousands of Shirley Temples
Hop over the counter, come talk to me a bit
Don’t-need-my-help-you-got-it-por-tu cuento- jajaja!
You look like you haven’t seen the sun for months
And all I can say is I must be home now
Where Jager and Arizona line convenience store shelves
and my beloved Limon chips exist.
Ashen corpse legs poke from under my skirt
yours look appropriate for a viable, die-able being
You know what she’ll love? Take this-
a Coke, fabricando con cane not that fructose crap,
Tie a glass bottle to iridescent Mylar orbs and poof-
what an apparatus amirite!
That’s what you and me are made of mamita
solamente azucar, agua y algunos colores.