the monster is the being who refuses to adapt to her circumstances (bhanu kapil)
speak about the hallucinations of night:
3am, a woman raps toward the stars/ a hip-hop howling of insisted insomnia
what is worse
the cats screeching for love and thrusting
off-key slurs roaming the treetops
there is a memory of riding my bike several times around my block in suburban new jersey. was i distracted by the wind or a song in my head or wondering about the menu of suppertime? and then there is a bump and i look down and a child lays flat to the sidewalk. stain of my bike wheel on her belly.
(who do i call to ask: did i run over a child during my youth?)
I fixate on a word
I may call myself a monster [today]
There is a gruesomeness to my demeanor. I am wearing the same socks as yesterday because laundromat was closed and I was too impatient for my coffee to wait long. My hair is knotted (still) and pushed back, yet growls against my head. I’ve got a rash from a spider that I was not quick enough to catch. I think about jumping out my window and impaling myself on cardinal chirping atop a fence.