Biting Back
When I was five I bit a boy / he had followed me down the slide / pinned my arms / and tried to kiss me / the teacher seeing the bloody marks / never asked for my words / she just gave me the ruler / and as it was picture day / my mother had to pay for a photo of me scowling / and missing the bow from my hair / the boy was cooed over and consoled / but at least my resistance was branded on his cheek
When I was thirteen a boy bit me / and called it love / we danced to Chanson D’Amour / and he told me / everything sounded better in French / then he sucked my neck / a would be vampire / before they were sexy / my frenemies seeing the bruise / soft and harsh as muslin / shook me with bullets / slut / tart / skank / the bite disappeared / but the scars from the words never faded
When I was twenty-one I bit my lip / as I followed my mother’s coffin / through the fug of white lilies / and purple shrugs / the taste of blood / clung to my words / why her / it’s not fair / and there is no God / still the sunflowers / in the garden of remembrance / coddled hope / so I rinsed my words / over and over again / trying to get rid of the stains
When I was thirty I bit my tongue / as another prince turned into a frog / the blood bubbled up / but this time I gaged as I tried to swallow / and in the swirl I tasted all my rage / what else was there to do / but spit out all those red globby words / and as I walked away / as free as the day moon / my last words—bite me / fell like cherry blossoms / or a long forgotten truth
The Nature of a Wall
Slipping into Stop and Shop / slush in the groove of me / I am greeted by an orange pyramid / a sunshine triangle / in which to lose any lingering winter blues / arranged like a puzzle / it dazzles / and dares me to take just one
I am reminded of a book / from my library years / when all it took to banish the season / was an afternoon gulping down words / well before my thighs resembled dimpled peel / and when I was still sweet enough to think / most people were good
Oranges are Not the Only Fruit / a book squashed full / of pips and pith / about a lesbian / in a religious family / the mother wanted to exorcise the gay out of her / so she starved her daughter / in their best parlor / it’s the sort of book that might be banned here
But in Britain it was put on the school syllabus / so we got to discuss / the juicy symbolism / of an orange demon / or the power of a pebble / to guide you home / and one idea wound its way around me / the nature of a wall / is to fall
Leaving the supermarket / I find it difficult to balance my plastic bag / on my arm / it swings back and forth / like a worry / and then barring my way / a perky Big City Big Dreams Barbie / brought to life / in Wilton Connecticut
She wants me to donate / to the Republican candidate for President / that orange fruitcake / I tell her that orange is not the only fruit / as I take one out / and drop it in her bucket / suddenly she becomes undone / calling me a name I’m surprised she knows
Other people / skirt around her / as if it’s 2021 and she’s not wearing a mask / a woman with a child / even tells her she’s a disgrace / like her candidate / and weird Barbie snarls about how he built a wall / to make America great again
I tell her about the nature of a wall / and as she packs her stuff to leave / people cheer / and I feel a ray of warmth / maybe next election / we will realize / America was always a fruit salad / and that’s what makes her great