// before Friday comes Thursday #1 \\

2012-01-05T00:08:00.000-05:00

// violet is my name, not a color \\

2012-01-01T18:58:00.001-05:00

I am the daughter of a woman who hasn’t been touched in seventeen years/ brushed against, yes/ held tightly, often/ but at the core, where only love can stroke, she is impenetrable//

I think of my mother’s armor as I watch assante leave without closing the door/ the scent of him sucked from our home/ no part of him lingers/a poet, his action symbolic//

I tell my mother of this latest ruin through chain-link fence/ I tell her I am empty again/ she tells of the time she fucked a filmmaker who captured a lunar eclipse on 8mm/her body bent over his director’s chair/ dark, round ass gilded by pale hands/ symbolism, she scoffs, assante should try authenticity next time//

I ask what I should try, expecting another ism to drown the boom of this sudden silence/ violet, she answers, it doesn’t matter who or what you stow/the body will echo like the cave it is//

Hey 2012!

2012-01-01T16:52:00.000-05:00

dear poacher,

I have decided to not let you win.

hot-bellied & Southern

// before Friday comes Thursday #1 \\

// violet is my name, not a color \\

Hey 2012!