after too many movies
about honor
and faith
and the fury of time/the hours
unwrap moments for me to fill
the monotone hiss of the heater
has begun
new skin is shedding the nights I spent
aching for things not promised
wishes and horses and all that manure
the crisp edges of real time
injects itself drunken into me
vein and artery
arrow and artistry
my fingers click precise
not trained or systematic
they type inclined to carpal tunnel
syndromes
honing in on old age and raw certainty
and me only worried that my eggs
will never bring themselves to fruition
but life can mark itself on a body
many ways
sperm and life
and being a lesbian is more complicated
than I would ever have envisioned
inside my head
I was coming to America
to laugh
and live a little
leave some of me to giggle
small parts dissolving into cackles
I though I would last longer than this restless devil caressing
inch long bruises across my identity
what the fuck is identity
in the face of all we endure
existence is inane
necessary
and without reason
no logic sticks to the ribcage
of death
and my voice is finding itself
blue
and yellow light breaking new skin all over my solitary bed
my limbs
can rest naked
missing the familiar
but aching less with the hours
thank God/or fate/or luck foe these horrible movies
for this book I am tapping into shape
no matter what you say
assault
survival
almost/almost survival
almost rape
such windows were made to be seen through
tall glass structures
erected upright for efficiency
and me sleeping un the nude
so the cold autumn sun can lick my stomach
my face unfolding to find morning
blinking at me
nothing feels as good
as my own belly
uncontained, my hips, my ass curved and kissed gently by the blanket
we slept under
in Washington Heights
and here
I can smile now
thinking of you
inhale the memory of your beautiful hands
seeking a clarity
elsewhere
and me
searching the bed for the phone
or a pen
or the remote
for one more movie
and me smiling open at the possibilities
opened up again
not so long ago
my hands were happily tied to yours
perfect
your fingers knew me
languid
Sunday mornings
sex and sleeping and the simple rote
of kisses
awakening
smiles
hidden/self-conscious
you were always too conscious of how much this meant
in another life
we will look back
and weep at our innocence
our rash politics
our wild hope against hope
we could have lasted
and did
almost two years
and I can smile at us now
new rings
promised under skies
and rain jackets at 2 a.m.
my feminist self
has never felt so reflected
almost a foot above me
you towered
and I laughed at how small you seemed
wrapped-up in my arms
you made me into a giant
small hands
and feet
I was always amazed
at the height of me
lying next to you the world seemed smaller
than my fears
my hesitation
I wish I would have jumped for you
higher than I did
not out of regret
but because you would have known
that I wanted to
you were beautiful
are beautiful
without clothes
and I challenge the looking glass
here in my bedroom
noon has never been so far
away
rocks the rhythm of a night without tears
willow trees bend stunning
in my imagination
they weep and whisper sweet nothings
nothing can make me
take back how much we loved each other
love each other
even now
a crass warp in our time
synchronized
we could have tested the parameters
of forever
but the edges would not have been
visible
the skies would have been endless
such excess
may have compromised
the way I love you now
rejoice
not in what could have been
but what was
flesh
morning
cafes
love and hope blooming radical in out chests
we nested
each lifetime pocketed
finite
in our hands
forever
was a thing to be trusted
and I giggle now
pleased with the memories fluttering comfortable
against my ribs
Adam can go fuck himself
I wanted Eve- I always want Eve
the apple tempting rose-like against her cheek
the meek shall inherit the earth
but I wanted your flesh
revelled in it human
frail
I found you
against these odds
twice
and now the future
winds itself spring-like against the Fall
winter is almost here
the winds
the leaves breaking colorful piles and piles of potential
next year
is still a possibility
but today is beating urgent
and am committed to living in the now
For the folks who missed it and can't seem to get their hands on it, Use the link below.
http://www.zshare.net/video/4436778edbc86b/
Thanks for the outpouring of support.
Although I have been trying, I can't reply individually to everyone, but each note has made me feel less alone, and has renewed my committment to tell these stories- these common and brutal truths, for the voices who cannot yet speak.
I am grateful for the swell of voices who have been writing to me, saying I cannot speak publicly yet. Don't worry, many, many people are already speaking, and when you are ripe for your own voice, it will come.
Love and poetry and survival and change,
Staceyann
Force your throat to swallow
ignore the familiar numbers
you punched
a million times before
promise the screaming dial not to call
do not imagine her
teeth spread wide
for other worlds
insecurities
invisible in the new landscape of dust
a new self falling
defense mechanism
hardening
in the face of your unecessariness
your incessant
need
mourning an old woman that only exists
in your frail memory
small
inaccurate
renditions that were never real to anyone
but you
you stupid bitch
how could you believe
someone so normal
would stay with you?
reach for the familiar
even if they reject your affections
practice surviving that denial
get better at it for the next woman
who will follow suit
and run
make those firm reservations to go home
to talk
to confess the parts of you
wanting to slit your wrists
slow blood leaks
criss-crossing like a Pollock painted there
ignore the thin skin
turned mocking against
your jugular
remember
survival is all in the hours
try not to count them
ignore the tick
ticking knuckle pressed to mouth
fingers raw from the effort
of lying to yourself
repeat her promises
remember summer
photograps of sky
naked joy
and how you thought it could never be winter again
fall into the stride of this new season
remember that love is a brilliant illusion
make peace with how good she was at it
do not kill youself
chant the letters found in a life with so many leavings
her family
was never your family
her mother was always
her mother
her gruff father
concerned with your roots
only as they extended from her palms
her long fingers
parting red stands of your hair
your head is irrelevant
you
are irrelevant
make peace with it
drink more
water
and though you ache for a vice
do not acquire one
not now
not yet
wait
for clarity
remember how you hate the smell of alcohol
on your breath
how stupid
you look after one sip of anything hard
remember that this time is as hard as it is
because your grandmother
your mother
the only person that was ever yours to lose
is dead
you lost your Grand-Mother
woman you lost
your anchor
your place of belonging
so it ain't no wonder
you crying longer
this time
harder
louder
than you used to, child
your heart was broken
and then run over
your heart was broken
then run
over the bridge
and under the racket of wanting one of them to appear
anyone would do
just now
Grandma
her
and still
there is only the night
and no woman
young
or old
nobody to hold me
only the kindness of strangers
cab drivers
toddlers in the airport
tell me
hush
don't cry Mad Hatter
stop that weeping
why are you doinf that all the time
in airports
and windows
and taxies
and strangers
beg you
please don't
cry
lady please
just pay the fare
and get out of my cab
time is money
and this city don't pay me enough
I am become my mother
Mad Hatter in a foreign country
reaching for strangers
because I am tired of being
together
all the time
I have to be together
I am only allowed to weep
in performance
when the curtain
is drawn
I am expected to name the parameters
of my pain
speak articulate
clear
fair-minded
weight both sides
understand why they both had to go
at once
they had their reasons
I am sure they had their reasons
be reasonable
Black
Biracial girl
(Black really)
here stands the subject
crying for home
for Grandmother
for woman
for touch
when I am not sleeping with anyone
New York is so lonely
I dream in chorus
ache
for coworkers
but I work alone
I travel alone
and when I am alone
I do not exist
and now you are dead
and dead is beginning to look
like something softer
than this travesty
of a life
a window
a red wall
a few dogs gone bad
and me
left here with these hours
pressing futile against my larynx-
with the heel of this sorrow placed so brutal
at the base of my throat
I am frightened
because it has never before
hurt so much
to speak