barton-d-smockStar

50 / M / American
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cleanlinessthe infant / would get / so angry
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50.3k
memeshortly before / the birth / of my eldest
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11.5k
nephewI project my stillness / onto babies. / a still baby creates an environment
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baby violence**grandeur** / had brought the well outta ground the muscled men and she came upon them when they had split into teams and were rolling it and had not yet become competitive. the hands of her gone infant came back to her to see these men heave back and forth a vanishing. of her many fathers one had said ‘the deep train went even deeper and I could not wake’. he had said it to excuse his one day feat of linking unadorned toilet paper rolls to stretch a rat’s mile. her stomach had yet to go down and she was comforted by such literal remnants as thinking of the last place you had it. / **libel**
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cellsrepetition / is never / more
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an accounting of midwestern balloonsthe blank face of a blow up doll beneath a numberless clock. / a sleeping bag outside of a boy. / two brothers rumored to have nursed
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insult stagethe very sadness. the very sadness of the intruder who brings his own plate to drop. the very ecstasy of telling a classmate he or she is ugly along with one finger he or she must choose. the cutting of the fingers to equal size. the unintended ecstasy of the sadness I use to *** a cobweb where I wait for something I’ll do nothing with.
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obediencemy son says / he is as sick / as a whale
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6.2k
disciplinesomehow sweet in his want of no trouble, the unwashed man takes the door from your father and there they go hand in hand to the backyard where they wrestle as if hurts were people keeping them apart. your father’s jaw comes loose, the man’s ear seems held by too small a magnet. at window you a sickly child with overbite and a scarecrow’s pipe stroke the puppet corn hair of a sister’s doll and walk it cloud to defrosted cloud. amidst this bartering of vanished weight your mother is being made to balance on her bare stomach a glass of lemonade. / in three days the man will come back; your father a bit healed, your mother less angry about straws.
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proofmy birdcage was a stuffed bear and my bird was a moth. oddly the bird protected my sister from knowing she was molested and oddly its cage promised my brother he would again be gay. oddly only because it was planned. I was more *spelled* than born and consented often to being sounded out. I carried with me a grey blanket that I held like a curtain when asked. my eyes were peepholes I had to avoid.
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