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

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

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.

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 ******* 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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.”

Big lipped Daddy
slitting yellow paper
and confetti.

Wrapped up caramel caddy
******* down to
the white bone.

Right Downtown where
buildings scrape blue skies
and leaves share
their space on the cement,

A vagrant just on the end of 10th
dances wildly capturing high-class sentiments
he throws wide arcs of brown shrouds
and falls with practiced elegance,

the city waltz between trees,
the jazz swing stepped proud,
in harmony with the breeze
your lolling head beats

out an ancient melody.
You belong to the streets.
You creak at the knee.
You smile right at me.

Between the glass pane
you see mine and wink,
you are perfectly framed—
I never do look away.

If you weren’t all
that I am not
so free
would I have seen

the officer turn the street
his rigid blue uniform taut
like his skin and hard
like his eyes?

Officer! I wish I could’ve
screamed, would you
had heard me? Turned a cheek?
Street dancer, city slicker,

You were everything—
****, the way he tapped his feet
floating high, mesmerized,
stunned, I just watched

sitting in a leather chair
hair dye dripping blood red,
his cracked lips flare
a smile turned cross

he falls onto the cement
he goes home colored red
he fills the cracks
he is dead.

Jorge

still in the night he
does not remember why
—sounds of her sighs

her small ears
pressing into the tight
space of the day

or the tenderness between
him and her
held in the air

the repeated denial
of the time set chained  
to hold their plans

were revolting against
trysts
spent in another’s gaze

2. Sebastian

the tenacious sense in
arrangement
lets slip imitation

how I could possess
your breath
and bear it

delicately freeing
my stances
I strained

in celebration
at the sanctification
that you’d
granted to Saint Sebastian
in Irene’s
blessing

will healing hands make
poetry
or trap the shaking  

of my languid silver pens  
taut but not
ready

3. Carlos

the sweet words
brought
for the lovers

that beats hard
each
hesitance

leaps
without fear
regarding

that
their time is
now here

the shape that
your
sighs take

suggesting
as if
limits don’t exist