our promised land is mortgaged
waters poisoned
your daughters legs are spread
mass culture ready to eat her out.

she buys it all-
the gossip rags, fake tans, cherry-flavored condoms.
she aches for it and it takes her gladly
leaving behind only a faint scent of perfume.

blood nails and ******* lips and artificial **** carry on.
girls lose their virginity only because it's trendy
and people obsess over the human interest
pieces on the nightly news.

i lash out with coffee breath
and short nails and unkept hair
and no religion
as my mother sits me down and
asks me not to step on any toes.

"rope, love."
she ropes me up.
sinks full of cigarette blood,
I drink it up.
catch it in my glass as it drips from the pipes.
predators and prey and no other
way out,
every place I hide
gives me up
sacrifice your kids for
me
sacrifice your head, your soul
I’ll eat them alive
and bury them in my insides.
grandmother’s Lincoln
leaving tread on your face
your liquor in the backseat
and your Mexican boyfriend falling all
over my hipster cousin, calling her his *****.
you lay on the bathroom floor
water races in the maze between the
tile
you’re in front of the door
I can’t get in.
cousin!
cousin!
let me in!
hard shove, pick up, not my cousin,  my lover!
dismemberment on the bed
you crawl all over
twists and turns and this once small
bedroom is now a labyrinth.
the television blares mindlessly in the other room
skin tears and eyes fall from sockets and I step over
my dead relatives to cross the street.
I scream,
and I drink blood out of a champagne flute
while checking my nails
and scraping the flesh out from under them.
everything about me invites you in
and masochism drives me mad with want.
Ego gets the best of me
cleanse me
purge me
scour me
I’m begging
cleanse me!
cleanse me!
I will never leave you,
never leave me, lover

give me your blood,
your tongue,
your lips,
your fingers,
some skin from inside your thigh,
and haunt me in passion
until I resurrect you at last!

Agonizing thoughts gather in
my head when I'm gone from my girl.
Lover, I haven't jumped on a plane,
I'm only a hundred miles away.
But these ideas increase-
I could go out, looking to relive nightmares
or create new-
I'm interrupted.

My uncle approaches me and says,
"kid, your eyes look a bit less blue."

"Must be the weather."

I stand, heading for the coffee ***,
and instantly feel weighted.
I think of things to come.
Dances in our bedrooms, her expression when
we make love.
I'm all choked up.

"Lost in thought, are we? Care to share?"

Share? Her? Lauren?
"No, no. I'm all right."

"A grandmother knows. Have some coffee."
She smiles as if she has a secret
and makes her way to her seat.

The coffee is just how I like it.
Perfect amounts of cream and sugar.
A grandmother knows.

"Kid, when you're away from your lover,
it's a terrible thing. But when you're the one that's away,
you're the one that can go back."

Lover, I'm ready to go back to you now.
Lover, I'm ready to rediscover you.
Lover, I'm aching to sink into your skin.
Lover, I'm longing to hold you again.

Swim.
Swim.
Swim.
Faster.

"Swim, kick, stroke,
or you won't get anywhere
in this ******* world, kid!"

At my old high school
where you were a ***** if you lost,
I was on nails everyday.
My muscles ached
in ways I didn't think possible.
My hands trembled in class,
and teachers looked at me with sorrow
in their minds, behind their eyes.

"You are nothing if you're not a winner
and here we only train champions.
Not musicians, not poets, or some
sappy, sad-as-**** writers.
You compete, you win, or you're out.
And you've been winning, so you're gonna train."

Word for word.
The veins in my head bulge.

"Faster! Faster!"

Even underwater the commands climb
in my ears,
slapping their way in with machete's
made minus mercy.
My coach, that *******
wants glory for this school, for this team
for himself,
wants it to come from me.

All I want is shadow.
To stand behind the curtains.

"You're gonna let everybody down!
FASTER! FASTER! FASTER!
MOVE YOUR ******* ARMS!
FASTER, *******!"

The bottom of the pool didn't
always look so menacing.
In fact, it almost looked inviting.

I turned the corner cautiously
into the kitchen at work,
hoping for emptiness.
I just wanted a quiet sanctuary,
away from the gossip agenda.
Much to my surprise, I found out
I'm ******* the secretary.

"That's odd," I think to myself.
"I don't recall that."

In struts Justin, the ******* from accounting.
"So, how'd you get that play?"
A devilish smile crawls onto his face

"*******, man."

I walk to the breakroom.
Kaylie's there in a pencil skirt that could
be mistaken for skin and a sheer shirt
over a lacy bra that pushes up her ****
so much you'd swear she was suffocating.
She raises an eyebrow and I assume that's
a greeting.
But she speaks as well,

"Hello, *******."

I gulp cold coffee down.
This talk is usual and never goes below two feet deep.
"Hello... what is it today? ****?"

"Very funny. I heard you're ******* the ***** up front."

"Yeah, well, talk is cheap, ain't it?  Besides, I heard you're blowing Troy."

"What? Where did you--"

"Relax, red light. I don't give a **** if he's ******* you on his head. Just make sure I don't walk in on the fun, alright?"

"You think you're such a smooth operator, don't you? You know, you could write the book on being an *******."

"Well, thanks for having faith, but you've got it wrong. I'm a smooth talker. And it would be a 10-step pamphlet. I don't have the integrity or patience to write a book."

"*******. When I'm a Washington big shot and you're a washed up ******* with a camera, we'll see who's laughing."

"When you're a Washington big shot, I'll set myself on fire and jump ship out of this ******* country, screaming "Kaylie the Cumbucket!" on the free fall down like the lunatic I am."

She grins, "sometimes I think you've lost your mind."

"Sometimes, red light, I know I have."

Sometimes, when I’m watching TV
Covered in my own filth
And feeling sorry for myself
I step in somebody else’s  shoes

I wonder how it feels to flip channels
Mindlessly, (a viewer expecting no harm)
and stumble upon a show that’s called…
****, I can’t remember.
featuring some reporter
whose name I can’t recall
but it’s not important,
and this reporter is sitting in some ****** hotel room,
when in bursts a gentleman dressed in a
***** red trucker’s hat
hunter’s vest
plaid shirt
worn jeans
and boots
who’s just arrived to claim the virginity of a 12 year old girl
who’s sold it to him on the internet and he’s travelled all this way
only to find a camera crew and that reporter
from 20/20 or some **** like that
waiting to catch him.
And they’ve caught him and it’s the third time
he’s pulled this
and now he’s exposed for the world to see
and they hate him and I hate him too.

I wonder how it feels to be you, viewer
who was molested in the 3rd grade
by your 23 year old step-brother
who had already ruined 4 other kids lives
and now this show, you feel, has just exposed you for
all the world to see
because you feel ***** walking down the streets
and the hottest shower on earth couldn’t get you clean
and your scar has been lashed open, fresh once again
and you used to love chocolate milk but now you want gin
and the first bite contorts your face into a distorted grin,
you don’t even like it but it does the job
keeps the powder dry
keeps any tears from escaping your eyes
you want to let your boyfriend touch you but you can’t
because he has hands and hands do bad things

I realize that what pity I have is generally
Wasted
on myself.
I am selfish.
I won’t be anymore.

I must’ve had seven cups of coffee
the morning of your funeral

Put on some slacks
Button my shirt (my mother forgot the weather and wore a skirt)
I do my best with my hair
Try to open my eyes and keep them wide

The night before is no better
In jeans and pearl snaps,
I get in my car and drive through town
The town you were raised in
My mother as well
And I, half raised

My cell phone has been off for
close to three days, shut in a drawer
Probably harboring messages from four
people who decided recently they were in love with me
And I'm sorry because I'm only ******* them

No computer, no phone, only stereo and headphones
Gentle distraction
As sadness rapes me over and over

I hold the door leading to you
There are people I know and some I don’t
Floating through the pews like ghosts
I approach you in a wooden, cushioned bed
Centered at the front like a sacrifice
No one dares to linger too long beside
A final viewing before we give you up

Everyone talks, smiles, braves it all
In the heartland
Of the heartland

With my family’s hearts dripping from my
hands.

It's the following morning
The supposed final goodbye,
The day before Thanksgiving and I am only rage.
I appear in hate of whatever God pulled this punch
My father and I
sit on the couch drinking coffee, dark.
I let it fester on my tongue, bitter and harsh
This house is hurricane
I haven’t slept in days and days
My eyes, like bloodshot moons,
Wane

Loss is plague

I drive to the church
My brother in the backseat
Steeple looming, scowling
knowing it’s wreaked it’s revenge on me

It hasn’t hit him yet

We pull up in the procession, the second car
behind your carrier, grandmother
I walk Max in
His eyes wax as he sees my mother in tears

It’*****

Pulls me down by my coat
Ear to mouth
“Grandma’s in heaven, right?”
Tears well in his blues

“Yes, Max, she’s in heaven.”
I can’t bring myself to say anything different

We sit in the splintered pews, old news living through bad news
A hand reaches for an older man’s shoulder
from behind
Two arms draped around him
Mother and aunt
This church is hell
Eulogy, song, tears
Everything I expected and dreaded
I hug my grandfather

I drive my brother and a couple cousins
To the cemetery
It looks like rain is dawning
Gray skies in a gray world
Grave sites in graver eyes
A prayer starts, the fourth or fifth today
Giving me time to think
Roses are passed
Carnations are stacked
Everyone lingers, little ones jump in mud
Family and friends talk

The red rose thorn ****** me
and I bleed goodbye blood

Goodbye, blood
Goodbye, grandmother
Goodbye