Peach Power


golden tortured, figure fortuned, backalley, orchard.
Behind the garden shed, I remember that mom cried over mud and blooms
There’s some bougainvillea-creeping laughing japanese being spoken over laundry lines
There’s some princess shouting glee and malice towards the unhungry
There’s a little bean of happy, smiling only for herself and for havoc
I mean, even the neighbors knew dad worshipped the tide more than he did mom
or no one knows anymore, the crowns he gave her have been wilted for a decade
one day there were lies lies lies and suddenly snowballs, fresh cow milk and igloos
its getting harder to open these boxes now and years worth i cant even find
little dolls all stacked inside each other and strung on a string around my small-ass hips
and we dive in no order without first reading labels or warning signs
the things i’ve seen in orchards, the snails i’ve tried not to step on, the young men i’ve tried to wish
out of this town, men and women ill-disposed at garden parties, too old to be fooling around in apple
I’ve never seen a bayou. I’ve never seen anyone I love die. I’ve never seen foreign soil or treetops or a
coyote or too much rain or my body as a dancers broken instrument or a miracle or mermaid or
      anybody so goddamn zen in my life.
There are places I’m worried about never seeing again, nooks I’m afraid of not fitting into
shards of snarling sisters, i called him phoenix on purpose even though i knew that wasn’t his name
french strawberries, yankee bayonet, your bronze doorknob and the broken bell
sour oranges, my sisters scarf, the lump in your stiff corduroys, the bunk beds, the walnut trees, your
libertarianism, field gazing troubador, my sore tooth, we were misguided and triumphant
they’re dj’s, they’re motorcycle riders, firefighters, tongue-tasters, shoe-pinchers, wood-sleepers,
aloners, truth-tellers, they’re blue-eyed babies, and brown-eyed heartbreakers, they’re unfolding from the center
light is both a wavelength and a particle and i drank a whole jar of holy water because i was told to.
peach feet pacing fast blue carpets alone within white
no more softness, no more water. the silence and clicks of being preferred gone and forgotten. this

moment is forever and my ass don’t care. keeps on jiggling with the steps.
the holy grail is between every woman’s legs, rubies and pearls
i bury everyone i’ve lost in various shades of lies and made up stories until there is no truth
my mother made may day baskets full of her fresh flowers for the neighbors (who stole shoes), giant
neoclassic library (with the lions out front), for the luxe catholic church (with stars painted on high
ceilings and a subterranean sunday school). mother had hair longer and redder than you’d think could
exist. it looked more like a type of currency than anything else. she moved into the gold, into running
and fall time and blackberrry brandy, the youth of my mother is crystalline, lush and autumnal, alaska
minnesota vermont. she worked at a florists. she flirted with the paramedic while bleeding through her skull.
      i’m afraid to look at these things
see– i love my dad more than the sun but i worship my mother like a god i’m afraid of.
that could kill me in an instant with words about sheep and shepherds and retribution
i can’t go back to the place that i love, the place that all the green melted into
there is nothing like the dead air before the tornado puts on its dancing shoes
learning about cellars and radios and panic when you can hear the wind
i wish i was deaf, i wish i was less restless, i wish i was a drag queen, i wish i was a comfortable old
man, i wish i lived in a purple velvet coffin buried under the sea, i wish i could cocoon. leave me in
there for months, come back, and i’ll be the same. all my veins have hardened. i’m stiffening from
within this gross mess. fresh fool. soft summer. june juvenile jumbled. scene selective and sour, sweet
and swollen, sick. here’s the part where i say that you let something sick take over me for a very long
time. where i say that you messed me up real bad. where i say that i’m the monster because i want to
have messed you up real bad too. i couldn’t even find my face for months. i’ve had to try on new ones
to find one that could be me. a flannel and a gun and a rabbit. fresh faced and hungry-sweaty in the
mountains. parasitic shipwreck crying on the tiled floors of my forefathers. drunk and warm and
apathetic around a campfire.soft warm and apathetic kissing boys who look like angels. someone
content to luxuriously spill out of the black silk dress. someone pretending to be old and adorned and
sloppily carefree. fine-ass honey. bitch-ass honey. expanding supernova peach. face of the disco era
      drag queen.
i will not take off these jewels. glitter will never die. hallelujah like crying in church. OUT OF EGYPT

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