My hand smells of apple and
Iron in my blood begins to revolt.
A shadow puppet smirks, pulling blanket
Wrapped over the 14 year old little girl's thighs;
It's morning already, I've got to **** you,
I've got to **** you.

We found our bodies drowned at
The colorless side of the bottom of Gangga;
As if wars would soon start again
Like when we were older and you sang me
A farewell with such an emotionless voice --
The tuberoses had let you sing the sonnet alone

And since then you could not
Escape the karmic silence;
You began to replace Shiva with the ticking clock which battery's drained;
You ate the mercury, the mercury.
You began to carry your charger everywhere yet I kept
Failing to taste your tongue even for once;
For once I saw the clouds and they're blue
Like eyes of the blonde girl with plastic daisies tucked
On her hair and
Dried forget-me-nots grew on your wet heart;

The Mindanao helped me to get through
But such tight seaweed had tied my feet to you (to get me back to you, to get me back to you);
An island of fears, your homeland; mine; traditional songs and dances I refuse to learn;
City of fire was only your lies.


(I am sorry I got your name misspelled, carved on my soul.)

So full of myself
I listen to Sylvia's voice as if it's mine;
Proud yet a bit embarrassed.
She wasn't my kind of shy.

My food delivered to the house
And a dispenser alone is enough because
I drink gallons of tea instead of *****-no-ice;

Because I
Would like to try
Different method to die.

You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to **** you.
You died before I had time ----
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal

And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off the beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.

In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My ****** friend

Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.

It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene

An engine, an engine,
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.

The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.

I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You ----

Not God but a *******
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.

You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.

But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look

And a love of the rack and the *****.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.

If I've killed one man, I've killed two ----
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.

There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagersnever liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you *******, I'm through.

"One thing I want you
to know, darling;
you shall accept your
fears."

She understood
the flower's words
not
how to do it.

She still doesn't dare
to scream, to scream,
to scream even when her house is empty
and the neighbors are busy with
their
loud parties.

She is still afraid to cry;
her parents might be aware
of traces of tears on her cheeks
and ask her
"What happened?"
What happened? What really happens?
She doesn't even know
the answer. Never.

The flower knew
its words couldn't do
any change of good of her
yet it chose
such kind words.
Accept it.
Accept it, yes, she could.
She can. She understands.
Like climbing an apple tree
is really easy
for a fish
to think.

"Sorry about that,"
so she says, pointing at
her own weak, fake, forced days of life.

On Tuesday's newspaper;
a potrait of smile and
it's faded.

The flower was afraid
of changing. It was an apple blossom,
now a fruit
you eat one a day to keep
the doctors away.

Flawed
can
at
a factory
behind
a
farm.
Misprinted
stamp
at
a small
post office in a calm
village.

Don't
call
us
*unique.

Do you know that what makes you scared
often is a big circle of rainbow?
You are
colorblind
and it runs through your *** chromosomes.
Blame your mother 'til you are
a chunk of solid, useless rock.
Rock it out, baby!

You wore your little sister's
blood red lipstick
and kissed four
corpses
on the cheek. I saw they smiled. Wide.

I saw you cried
for a lusterless, shriveled red rose
they stomped like crazy as the music got louder, louder,
louder.

Do you know that red roses
never grow like a scar?

Your father is deaf
but I heard him once
hummed you
a lullaby.

A dentist with a
dental dam. But she prefers
wearing dental gag.