Meat

The Meat Monkeys boomed death into my mother.
No more warm,
no more milk,
no more rough tongue.

They put the hard ring around my neck,
and pushed me behind the strange gray grass that cannot bend.
The Meat Monkeys taught me useless things:
Jump through a hoop.
Sit on a perch like a bird.
Go here, do that, learn some monkeytalk.

Whip. Chair. Hungry.
At night, I dream of forests full of loose dinner.
Here comes my Meat Monkey, strutting.
Meet my claws, teeth, anger.

Learn some tigertalk.
______

a circus tale for Mama Zen in 89 words.

Seeds

At the top of marble stairs,
those hard smooth stairs pressed from prayers that could not be granted,
I will leave twin birds each with half a song.

You will know them by their scent,
and by the midnight-storm sea-water blue of their melancholy.
My kiss will come back to you, folded inside their feathers.

Follow the marble to where it breaks,
take the root-bone broken dirt road that splits the upstairs floor.
I will strew lilies to guide you, as sweetly as an easy death.

Oh, did I mention how restless, how diffuse
is the road I have lured you down? It webs out, becomes thousands,
becomes legion, and down just one of them is my bed and my heart?

I wish you luck.
Place these non-seeds in your hand and let your breath begin them.
Follow them. Splinter as you do, and I'll kindly bury each letter of your lies.

You should have loved me right, when I flowed hard for it.
Now, well now, this is the only way, and I have avalanched everything behind you
with black gems that turn to rot if you touch them.

Just do the best you can, my second chance baby.
Just pretend your feet are magnets and that I am true north.
Just follow the strange-birthed backwards sun that comes up in the west,

so that you, too, can know what it means to be scorched by a blank face.
______

Milkweed orb by Deborah Glessner. Used with permission for Artistic Interpretations With Margaret at Real Toads.

Check out the song. I dare ya to sit still. 

Nice Girl

I'm a nice girl
Most usually,
And ain't nothin'
That you done to me...
But if you hurt the sun, the moon will know--
I'll chill deep blue and sink down low
To fuck you up bad
And cut you cold.

Do you think I'm joking?
Did you think that if you broke her heart
That I would sigh and just forget?
Did you think I'd not use blade and fire
To leave you just this side of dead?
I'll fuck you up hard--
That's what I said.

I'm a nice girl
Most often times,
But if you cross my sister
And make her cry,
I'll use every magic,
Every edge,
Every blasphemy
To make you see and feel me
Much better than you ever did for a girl you could never deserve;
Do we understand each other, sir?
I'm going to fuck you up wicked,
So bite on this
And I'll begin it.

_______

Hannibal In Hell

Hannibal in Hell
Idles away the empty hours
Being flattened by frozen elephants.
They didn't like the Alps
All that much,
So if they toss him on their tusks,
It's all good and well.
Paybacks are a bitch
For Hannibal in Hell.

Look at me!
I have come back as a cat,
And I don't care
Don't care
Don't care.
Go to work, get out of my hair;
You can trust your brand new drapes to me.
I am unconcerned as unconcerned can be,
And though I used to love you,
Now I just can't tell.
Paybacks are a bitch
As Hannibal knows well.
_______

"Now you will be cut down. You destroyed the wild animals, so now their terror will be yours." --Habakkuk 2:17


Hannibal of Carthage crossed the Alps with 38,000 men and 37 war elephants in order to attack the Romans. Over half of the men and nearly all of the elephants died on the way.

The Monster Of Birmingham's Last Words

Do I look hot

In my arrest photograph?

Do I look appealing?

Or not?

And beyond that,

Do I look like the kind of girl

Who would do the kinds of things

That I have been accused of?

Do I look weary

Being led into the courtroom?

Do I look pale?

Suitably teary?

And beyond that,

Beyond looking wretched in this orange suit,

Do I look like the kind of girl

Who would do these things, and then lie to you?

I had to do it.

I had to...

Are you sure I never told you

How much I know about ju jitsu?

So when I saw her standing there,

Happy, and

All those things I cannot bear for her to be,

I had no choice.

It was something in her voice when she

Looked at me and asked, "How are we?"

I was bound to snap.

Surely you can see.

Surely you can see that.

Do I look sorry?

Are you sure I don't look fat?

Do I seem remorseful?

Humble?

But beyond all that,

Do I look like the kind of girl

Who belongs in a place like this?

And, as I blow the press one final kiss,

Do I seem

Better than her?

Oh tell me, please tell me

I've always been

Better than her...

Tell me, do I seem

Better than her?

Do I?

Darling, you've always been

So honest,

So true,

So kind, I know you wouldn't lie.

________

Photograph: Jordana Brewster

The Lorelei

"Everybody's somebody's fool" --Connie Francis

The Lorelei is brought into Maritime Court, charged with luring sailors to their deaths with the beauty of her voice.

A jury of her peers is empaneled, but disqualified when The Lorelei testifies in her own defense,

And nine of the jurors throw themselves over the rail to sit at her feet

Where she pets them like so many Pomeranians.

An all-female jury replaces the first one, but still, five of them pass The Lorelei impassioned notes,

Suggesting meetings after they have seen to her acquittal.

"Objection!" thunders the prosecuting attorney. "The defendant is to blame for dozens of shipwrecks and the loss of life and property!"

"Oh sure, blame the woman," mutters The Lorelei, rolling her eyes.

In the end, she cannot be convicted.

Even a bench trial fails when, upon hearing The Lorelei promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and so on, the judge drops his gavel and proposes to her on the spot.

She refuses him.

The Lorelei becomes a media darling.

On E! she is asked why she isn't blonde, as traditionally depicted in art and illustration,

And her silent scorn is potent enough to send the interviewer, a former soap opera hunk, away in tears.

The Lorelei decides to grab lunch at Danny's Coffee Shop.

She sits at the counter and tries to chat up the chick next to her, just because she can;

But she is ignored, which has never happened before, and The Lorelei gets flustered and drops her keys.

Chloe, born on a sunny Sunday in May, says,

"God what a ditz. Pick those up."

Chloe is the heart-breaking murderess of Danny's Coffee Shop, and has never felt sorry for a single thing she's done.

Look at her eyes--they are

Untroubled,

Beautiful,

Disturbing,

Feline.

For the rest of the afternoon, The Lorelei sits at Chloe's feet like a Pomeranian.

Despite the ruin it will bring, she cannot help herself.

From The Lorelei's glass of water,

A thousand sailors laugh

And sing songs honoring Chloe,

Their unexpected Queen

Of ironic revenge.

____________

Those unfamiliar with Chloe can find her here.