Old Tick Tock won’t let up the drag. The Bastard caught that eternal disease…the kind that backs little faggots like me into the locker for a lick of abuse.
Woodpeckers, chained, poised behind slavery doors are enviable slaves. Father, their tried and fearful mistress. [There is no reason to exit]
My hair has fallen out completely and beneath it I found the five missing pills.
TRUST ME. WE WANTED IT TO DIE.
My sisters rattled the sand from their t-shirts, the plastic bags we were preserving with cubes of sugar and clean hot water. Mary was not wearing panties beneath her night gown: the worn and blue one we stole from grandmother’s bureau. Spinning in damp cabin living room, we were insane Kings and the ocean was complaining right outside our doors.
She: “May I see what you’re hiding under there?”
The tide was attracted to us, bastard faggots. A pot was warming over a blue flame in the next room while the walls became flavored with propane and clam dirt. Through the shattered windowpane, we drooled over a distant lighthouse. Our room answered back with an even colder light.
Mary eats the opportunity of silence:
Peddling backwards into the center of the earth (room hosting fearful animals)
Fingers (seizing tentacles) gathering the warm and blue hem
She takes two handfuls of the bag
Our backs are ignoring her, heating all the way up now
I set a black Polvo record on the dock and switch it on slower than I ought to. I adore my sisters. Sometimes I make up rules for them to break!
Rotating, carved by a harsh pin needle,
Mary the Axis.
She uses my body to remain balanced while practicing pirouettes with her hair down. I am so spotted, so wet and weak.
OK, I must remain very still for her now
ONLY, I would like to crawl closer
TO, have my orange face calloused by the vortex locks
THEY, are meticulous whips
OR, might be unloyal to her scalp
AND, take split roots into my upper lip
THE boyish cheek
ADORNING and & making sister absurd auntie brother He
Sister heaves me from the balcony. Briefly, I am falling perfectly, loving myself, coming repeatedly in the wind.
I accidently alit.
Me, a traitor of the familial sex, naked seaside, pale, halfway submerged, a shameful man, gums bleeding while my too-soft fangs scrape mud from the rocks. My sisters smell our DNA, spilled. They break the house, run to me, tumble into my black tar bath and begin kissing my open palms through tears. A periwinkle crawls into my —-
To us, the distant lighthouse is a trusted sun. Precisely paddling toward THOSE stones, the male versions of myself & sisters are nothing more than, drowning, clumsy, forfeiting, incredibly inverted, overturned, upset piles of
Suspended metal bowls in a warm sink full of stolen China
Mother is washing us like the breakfast dishes
Because we’re filthy
We cannot keep from lifting our dresses in church
to boast the evidence our very FIRST, very REAL-LIFE, very SAME GIFTED