vanity

 

you've got a big-ass dick
it pushes me up against the car door
when we're driving home
it gets in the way when we're alone, it
sucks the air out of every room
it's your favorite topic of conversation, your dick
comes out of your mouth more than
it goes into mine
intoxicates you more than wine
used to, when you were a drinker
now your heads are combined
and they're both too big for me
no wonder you can't keep it in your pants
it's a wonder you can drive or walk or dance
with that much dick weighing you down
and, of course, yours is always
the biggest around
not that you'd ever admit to
comparison shopping

yes, it's always about your dick
not my feelings, but your dick
and anyhow, i'd better get over it quick
'cause i'm not paying enough attention
to your dick
your penis has come between us
it must be sore from you stroking it so much
you have pet names for it, like
"confidence" & "self-esteem"
because you love it so
i call your dick "narcissus" & "big-ass ego"
you smack me with it constantly
just to remind me it's there
not that i didn't notice the
sticky arrogance in my hair
so proud, you can't keep it to yourself
that's why now you're with someone else
let her push your wheelbarrow of phallus around
let her get pounded by your
rock-hard self-centeredness
and see if she feels as fucked as i did
maybe we can look for your balls together
everything didn't come as a set
but seriously, i wish you and your dick the very best
when his dick is his best friend
a man usually ends up alone
i hope your hot cock keeps you warm
on lonely nights, when the ice you store
your heart in melts to tears
don't call me, your dick has
permanently plugged my ears
besides, you always spoke to me in 'asshole'
i don't understand that shit

now i can breathe, now there is laughter
may you and your big-ass dick
live happily ever after.

​

​

cannibal

​

in church, we ate god every first sunday

or, rather, we ate the body of his son

our lord and saviour jesus christ

washed him down with grape-flavored blood

went home in the afternoon and

chewed upon the actual flesh of

the dead and unholy

 

i grew up country poor

we only shopped in grocery stores for

canned tornado food and milk

our farmer relatives fed us

i spent late summers snapping beans and

shelling peas for freezing

the first days of afterschools cleaning 

freshly wrung chickens

by spring, we were usually down to

hog's head cheese and fatback sandwiches

by summer, dinner was grits and fried canned tomatoes

god bless slaughter season and early harvest

when i was 7, i once had a pet chicken

it was then that i learned the meaning of life

when i came home from school and

she was silently on my plate

her cage and my belly were both empty

hunger eclipsed my righteous indignation

god is great, god is good

let us thank him for this food

 

vegetarianism is a religion

prosthelized by

city-dwelling atheists and rich folk

it is an elite western ideology

attractive to those with no immediate fear of starvation

consumers of billboards and articles and philosophies

drinkers of smug self-righteousness

to wash down multivitamins when the rice cakes were not enough

humans at their basest

eat what is edible

country christians eat by the bible

jesus gave the people fish

invited us to eat his flesh

basically said, fill your belly with what

i have availed to you

i am no longer christian

but I eat what is available to me

my hunger eclipses your politics

 

perhaps i am wrong

maybe my country grandmothers and aunties 

lived to their late 90's in spite of

hog maws and pig knuckle sandwiches

and mother earth would prefer if we

set domesticated food animals free to

overpopulate and die from mass starvation

what i do know, though, is 

peta protesters are made of meat

when this earth inevitably transitions

when crops dry up and blow away

when the last animals have gone to slaughter

due to famine and waste

when there are no more chickens, there

will be vegetarians

i will fill my belly with

what is available to me

hunger eclipses everything

and transforms saints into saviours

​

​

speechless

​

if i had cleaned my room

a black woman would be president

i am halfway convinced

the only thing standing in her way

was my laundry, and carpet lint

and the jackets on my bed

if i had paid my credit card bill on time

and hadn't treated myself to that burrito

(i really didn't exercise fiscal conservation)

then surely it would have been a landslide victory

instead of me avoiding texts and social media

dissociating on my floor

she must be so annoyed with me

i dropped the ball

i voted early, but i certainly didn't drink enough water

ate too many oreos early in the morning

didn't respond to that email quickly

and that cost a black woman the necessary electoral votes

i want to be helpful

be a credit to the American people

earn my place and my value

not be a burdensome black woman

but clearly i haven't done enough

there's a cup and 2 forks in the kitchen sink

a bit of dust on the bookshelf

and all the leaden guilt on my back of

hundreds of years of responsibility

generations of bearing the brunt of blame for

lifetimes of unmet expectations

my apologies

for overestimating my power in this country

while underestimating the negative effects of

my book piles and unmade bed

i will do better next time

until then, i'll be over on the outskirts where i live

riding the stereotypes and bucking the system

healing, hydrating and planning the revolution

striving for the impossible perfection required of me

all heroes don't wear capes

some take gut punches

in your place