East River

My thoughts are not unlike
the unforgiving East River
lucid, ever-daunting
A frigid conglomerate of salt and sea

My subconscious almost pleads for safety
But I am built for this moment
illness softens me to perish

A front flip into black ice
My solid limbs cracking slabs of ice apart on impact
210lbs. of skin & bone slips beneath the frozen blocks
Floating to the bottom with the assistance
Of lead organs and 30 lb. dumbbells

I want to say I am uncomfortable in this
heavy unhealthy abyss
But I have been here so long
I forget what it’s like to be above water.

Swathe

Towel-dried head
Terry cloth rubbed on my brown curls frizzing with every tousle
I knew he was doing it wrong, but rare was an occasion where
My father got me ready for bedtime.

Once dry, he clothed me in a shirt of his to wear to bed
blue and white tie-dye
“New York Aquarium” graphic tee
Seals and dolphins leaping off the front panel
3XL, an over-sized gown on my 7-year old frame
An honor to receive such a coveted garment.

He combed my mulatto hair poorly in his clumsy, unrefined way
The teeth of the wide brush snagging at every curl
Yanking at my tender scalp
I laughed at his novice and told him to do it better like momma.

I can only imagine I slept soundly that night
My tiny, trusting body squeaky-clean
Ringlets of my mixed-breed hair tugged tangle-free
Warm and safe in my hero’s cloak

I wish I could crawl back to that vision in time and relive it
Fashion my quarter century-old body into the spirit of a child
Knowing no fear that cannot be taken away by him
Knowing no love stronger than the bond with my father.

Your Body Is Your Home. Don’t Burn It Down

I.
What happens when the foundation gives in heaves?
I do not want to die
But she who must go on does not feel the same
She shakes
& I can feel her skin blue
I am no longer living in this body

II.
Where do I run when the fire starts?
The smoke consumes me
My first & last thoughts are always of you.