After Tarfia Faizullah’s Hidden Registers
She winces at taboo, the same way
she looks at empty ultrasounds.
The ache
inside the hollowed curve of her
womb, she imagines carrying color
to fill
translucent dreams. Her hand paints
spells onto her stomach, she wants
to believe again. That split
a girl finds between her legs,
the wonder
it first captured, she wants newborn pink
on her cheeks and unmoving lips.
The pout her ******** makes,
rises in swells under the moon,
to feel
that luminous glow. She holds
out, the palms of her hands,
for alms. Comets ricochet into her,
until her breath slows to sleep. She is still,
the woman
inside her is quiet, laying in wait.
They dream of seeds and sunrises.
A. T. Bockholdt
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 9:23 PM UTC
Shalom Friends
This is just to say...
I am actively (of course) still (always) writing, however I have started attempting to submit my work and build my portfolio because of this I cannot post (nearly as) frequently as I would like. If you’d like to read any of my work or have anything you’d like to share feel free to message me!
Until then- keep reading and keep writing
Yours
A. T. Bockholdt
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC
Lucy, you’re all white
bone-dry hands
but ya face ain’t calm—
Said you were almost complete
dancin on your two feet
but that rouge never lasts till dawn.
Girl you’ve walked the night
long as we can remember
whole worlds seen your hips sway—
Ever wish your secrets had stayed buried?
Baby, s'too late to worry
you’ve been embalmed in fame.
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 2:01 PM UTC
On the riverbanks I toasted the moon
between smooth pebbles and weeds
the silent silver bells tolling out
in tandem with your cries. Daddy
don’t you want more, more, more—
Promethazine Queen and ****** King
your beloved subjects, beatnik
so low compared to New Critics
the antithesis to the highs neither
He, She, nor I have reached yet!
Religious visions in the soup kitchen!
Finding God in the backs of cars
while racing to the back doors
of the hospital her cream colored wings,
found new heights when you OD’d
the backseat confessional as we raced
along toll roads, laughing, out the window towards sea
God you cried out, won’t you dance with me?
Hell right at your feet, yeah sure, I heard
and then out we rolled, down the hills,
into the fishy sewers, their haven
and I wondered is heaven fish chomping
at the bit, and at our toes?
I’ll never know, but on these riverbanks
I start to. On our private shores
transferring from one bank to
another, promising, ***
that our memories are safe
locked inside metal storage lockers,
with police men wearing collars
and every single American dancing
the electric slide to get in with a four
digit pin, they want priceless for the night
for the price of a hundred year of their lives!
They beg for skin to bone loans,
millions of them, something to eat,
chicken—cowards, liars, and thieves
we run on getting drunk with the government
coerced each other, just stick in it, just
stick in, I am wet for the American
dream, and Trump’s toupee, his orange
lips salivating after me, grab me by the *****
Or at the very least release me, us,
the collective minds of our future gen
little boys and girls that will always
have to wonder, why? Did no one like them
and what kind of sins have their
fathers committed towards their mothers,
allegations, perpetuations, I just want
out of my own god **** skin!!!
So every night, before dying
I sleep with chocolate girls melting
into their Hershey *******
their chocolate kisses
or find guys whose vision is
both of us strapped up from the ceiling
Mary and Magdalene, save your children.
Jan 18, 2018
Jan 18, 2018 at 6:48 PM UTC
I need to say
goodbye
to rose petals
and soft rain.
Ain’t never done
me no good
wasting
my time out
looking for ro-man-tic
love like that—
no, it just *****
me dry
blood-letting tick,
that fat belly man
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 12:16 PM UTC
The Devil came to me
during the final merengue,
in the ***** shadows of the night,
While I’d been dancing with a man
whose face I did not know,
his eyes were the color
of his hair, his hair
the color of his skin,
he blended into the
white walls the way Mole seeps
into chicken. He looked hungry
like every other man I had
ever seen before,
but Madre did he know,
how to make me spin. Spun me so fast
I pierced holes into the sky,
the Sun cooked red hot inside
he let off steam, cursing the ***** cochina
for her hoofed feet and bouncing
pig tail hair. When I tried for innocence
the sun only saw white
anger when I tried to apologize,
the Devil tsked and shook his head,
shoved his fingers into my mouth,
my tongue became an ember
my words turned into clouds.
Oh Dios, el Sol fue muy enojado,
his stars burnt brighter than ever,
reflected el Diablo’s brilliant grin
his triumph was he always got
exactly what he wanted. My chest
grew tight with fear, knowing what
I’d done. With a smile,
the ***** dance,
that the Devil had given. Me
quiero nada más, I cried.
But he just laughed instead, and picked up
greater speed. With every spin, my world
grew hot, flames kissed my neck and feet,
“Mami,” he said, “we’re not through.”
Grabbing onto my hips to throw me
around la Lun’, beating her
silver skin, the craters came
to represent his twisted lullaby
cooing Ella recordará y tu tambien,
The night belonged to him.
Dec 12, 2017
Dec 12, 2017 at 12:54 PM UTC
I’ve traced the edges of the house,
we used to call our own,
with Himalayan rock salt,
and summoned up the sea.
While peering from the splintered steps,
watched for the ship of dreams,
an albatross, fell onto the roof,
a sign of death’s decree,
even though there was no hope,
I knew you wouldn’t come—
I waited every day and night,
until I was no longer young.
The midnight skies were starless,
never again did fill with clouds,
the North star would not shine again,
buried alongside Treasure Island.
It took me years to brush away
all the sands of time,
and when the porch was finally clean
I swallowed each tear of mine.
No more could I stand to hold
onto a barren frame,
I stripped our house of memories
and set her skin aflame.
Even from the afterlife,
I’m sure you heard our screams,
I hope its heaven that you’re in
for Hell I’ve come to see.
Dec 12, 2017
Dec 12, 2017 at 3:25 AM UTC
On the weathered pier of Huntington
laid upon the salt licked beach,
the old, hull of a forgotten
ship. Split, for its wooden fruit. The juice
of our sweat becoming mist
while we walked the plank,
in suspense, between clouds and sea.
The knotted surface sore
from sun. Burnt backs float
on the waters of their green veins,
like Guamamela1 on the ***** river
banks. “NO ACCESS,” signs in red
and white lights, harshly beating
against the dark skin of the wood,
the memory of another life.
I remember, my Lolo and Lola
bending to the waves of people
pressed still in one space.
The one time, they could hold onto
my hands, I felt them shaking.
In tongues they resurrected
the island, said there none
of this exists.
Why did I laugh?
1. Filipino hibiscus
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 4:41 PM UTC
so cool and gold
these hoops dance,
on the edge
of my shoulders.
they match, my skin.
they set fire,
to your son.
they are loved.
they are loud,
against my ears.
they are the only
cuffs, ill ever wear
these. gold hoops
are always proud,
oh, yes, my gold
hoops, give me power.
they swing with my step,
glint with my smile,
circle around your mind and
leave you to hang.
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 6:53 PM UTC
Cold coffee
spilled jam
blackberry
punched stains
on white
skin
wash away
the sweet
sweat
and clean
the bed
sheets
I want
more than
you
hope calls
one ring
echoes
between us
I reach
you
leave instead
“I am
alone.”
On the
other end
nothing
which might
be better
when
nothing means
exactly the
same
when he’s
here or
not.
Breaking silence
a sigh
“Oh,
my Dear
what a
waste.”
Dec 4, 2017
Dec 4, 2017 at 5:10 PM UTC