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.
i’ve got coconut oil and african moisturizer if you need some help soothing those raspberry colored knotty locks.
i’ve tamed some wild hair in my day.
let the cardinal live btw…no need for blood stains so early in the am.