Pennies in the Piggy Bank and The Curiosities of Fruit
Pennies in the Piggy Bank
Tasting the shadow of a girl I once knew.
Bronze. Iron. Like a mouthful of dirty pennies.
Only now, in the bottomless quiet of a sleepless
plague do I see her in technicolor.
Raging through massive puddles.
Barefoot and bound to catch a cold,
but careless. Blissful.
Free from the age where
death becomes a soft purple stain
under restless eyes.
Free from the indomitable shadow
of self hatred.
through the rain, not stopping once
to wonder if her hair is following the
flattering part that hides her too-large forehead,
or if the sopping strands of hair are dangling in front
of her dripping lashes in a way that makes her look (more) fuckable,
or if that fuckability defines her worth,
or makes her body a trophy worth shelving,
or if that makes her a piggy bank full of dimes
or just a pig with a hole cut into her belly
Built to be emptied,
Corked, spent and broken.
No. She’s not thinking about any of this.
Out in the orange heart of an October storm
She’s wet without worry.
Smiling without destiny.
The haunting taste of pennies-
The only trace left of her.
She; folding like a wave
Between cheek and tongue.
Wondering if she’ll come back.
Wondering if she can still teach me.
The Curiosities of Fruit
Imagine your skin as the bright rind of plump fruit
Would you not be tempted to peel back
The blushing flesh stretched over your cheek bones
See what hue grows underneath
Smell the citrus mist burst like a voluptuous, wet cloud
From the bedrock of your body
Let vanity be kin to you
Like rain to root
It can be healthy,
Critical as we are
So say Yes, Yes, Yes to Imagining --
Every suffering, succulent thing
deserves this curiosity --
A slice of avocado,
The pearly wet belly of an abalone shell,
Jagged innards of amethyst geodes,
The self, a divine mouthful
Were you fruit for my feasting
I would break you apart
Like a pomegranate,
Collect all your dazzling arils,
Eat them in boisterous spoonfuls
Like a sloppy, soft skulled child,
Let you stain my mouth,
Drip down my fingers,
Get wedged between my teeth
I would peel back my velvet rind and make a ripe bed for you
In the space torn
Where you can spill like a ruby jewel landslide
Over the clementine slide of my suede spine,
Where birds spring from fermented canopies,
Where your laugh is a field of poppies bursting like wildfire,
Where the heart is a piece of fruit with no rind