Turn My Body Loose

Abbott Birth by Victor Garcia. Used with permission.

A poetic rant

We, women . . . we cling to our bodies
our sense of self wrapped up in them
and warped to nothingness by the
White men who use their minds to
belittle and belie our truths at every
corner — at every junction. 
How are we to live in a nation
full of vultures?

How are we to cope?

A balking group of people has
made it their life’s work to
strip the woman of the one
thing we had total control over — the body.
And what next? What will they 
search and seize and lasso into
their slimy possession that 
belongs to us?

We are yclept weaker or lesser 
yet they use laws to silence us — to push
us into the closets of their making.
Is it fear? Is it egotistical? Is it bullying?
What can we say about the men 
who have no desire to protect us?
What can we say about the women
who support them?

Turn my body loose. You have
no reign here — it is mine. I carry it,
I nurture it — grow it into the massive
mountain you wish you could climb.
Tread lightly, though, I can shake it
and rattle you at my will. 
I can crush you if ever I feel the need to.

Were these your reasons? Is this your why?

Could you no longer take the 
strength and representation within
something built of atoms and flesh and blood
that is not solely yours?
It boggles my mind how senseless
human beings have become 
but even more so, how drunk with 
power many men are.

If it were up to me, I’d rally
the world around us to bury
your tongues in the potholes meant 
for them and turn the sun’s rays
up higher — burn, motherfucker, burn.
We’d stand by, fan the flames, and 
call Lucifer to your collective side.

We’d let him have his way with you,
just as you’ve had yours with us.


Originally published in my new publication, soliloque, via Medium.

Lucky Lou, Stu, and the Woman

A Rapid Rhyme

Man in Black Jacket Standing Near Black Wooden Door
Photo by cottonbro via Pexels

A Rapid Rhyme Audio Poem

Lucky Lou said to Stu
that he’d catch the girl
who rocked their world
& make plans to do more
than hold hands

what Stu didn’t know
wouldn’t hurt his flow &
Lucky Lou was cool too
besides being a fool in
love with a woman who’d glide

right on to the next,
Lou only wanted sex


Originally posted via Twitter as an experiment.

To him who has my eyes . . .

man carrying baby and kissing face
Photo by Zach Vessels via Unsplash

you were my first gift
the one I didn’t have to open
to see and feel how much
it would mean to me

the things a little girl yearns for
includes the comfort of a father’s
loving arms and I needed yours–
they were always there

we have had our moments
our fights
disagreements
instances of not wanting to
be wrong, yet we are
still stronger than our
last downfall

you, who has my eyes,
I owe you a debt
that can never be repaid–
I have this gift of life

because you gave it
to me


A very Happy Father’s Day to fathers young and old wise and not. We see you and we love you.

Used

Framed photograph on a table showing a couple embracing
Art by Veronica Baranova via Mixkit.co

The picture of them laid against the wall–away from every other memorable thing in their home.

She gathered his belongings, tossed them in extra-large garbage bags, and slung the pile one by one to the edge of the curb.

Fifteen years of them shuffled around in each bag, her heart broke at the thought of it. But, he had his chance. He simply couldn’t commit. And she . . . well, she was tired of being “ringless.”

An ultimatum was given, “Marry me or leave.”

He walked out the door.

Changes

The Remarkable Use of “No.”

latesnow
A Dusting|Photo credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

Claudia sits on her borrowed couch, sips Theraflu, and twists her hair from nervousness. She licks the edge of her gold tooth and sucks in the wild air of the night. It’s not hot. It’s not cold. It’s an in-between seasons kind of evening, yet there’s snow on the ground. She pets her cat Louie on the back of his head, scratches his little ears, and licks that gold tooth once more. She acquired it back in ’94 on a dare from her then-girlfriend, Cindy.

Cindy was a powerhouse. She had everything going for her, including being a mom and wife — house with the picket fence, Benz, and thousand-dollar breasts. She wanted Claudia, though, and she had her.

Then there was Dave. He was a news correspondent for a prominent journal in their city. He had red hair, freckles, and a laugh that reminded Claudia of Santa Claus. The things she did for that man . . . They snuck around town late at night, crept into places where a significant amount of money was definitely an option and had sex on every inch of furniture in her home.

He was married too. No kids. His wife caught them out together at a museum. That was the end of Dave.

Paula . . . Sexy. Sassy. Paula. She had moonbeam eyes, plump, kissable lips, and smelled like a broken heart. Claudia fell for her easily, even got her name tattooed on her left breast. A memento. A keepsake. Something she now regrets.

Paula wasn’t married, but she wanted an open relationship. She couldn’t see herself tied down to just one person and Claudia loved her so much she agreed. She made so many changes to her life and herself, she began to notice that she no longer knew what she wanted.

She wanted to be loved. She wanted to be lifted up and gazed upon as if the sun rose from the cleft of her chin. She wanted commitment — the totality of oneness with a mate, and happiness. She wanted happiness.

Leon, the gas station guy, changed her whole perspective on dating and she thought, This is what I want. Yes, this is it!

But Leon had a long-standing relationship as a coke-head and Claudia found out the day a few items began missing from her home. It broke her, the last straw. Her back shattered in places bones were not supposed to be.

Take away the addiction and Leon was perfect. And maybe that was the problem. He was so well-put-together that Claudia did not search for hints of faults or flaws. At the age of fifty-two, she made the decision to just say “No” and live her life without someone else attached to her.

When she did this, the doors of opportunity opened. New job. An advance of $2,500.00 on her first fantasy fiction novel. Relocation. Two new books edited and published within six months of each other. Bestseller’s list. And on and on and on, it went. Her life was an avenue of great things and she enjoyed skipping down the unknown path.

Until . . .

Laura. Five years later, she was forced to say “No” out of fear of who Laura could actually be and what she would potentially lose. Laura was single. No kids. No drug habits. No crazy antics of horrible events to come. And to Claudia, something was wrong with this. She was too perfect. Laura could not be true.

Because of her past, Claudia passed on Laura. She wasn’t going to take another chance at being the underbelly of a broken creature. She skipped her casually — afraid of what could be behind that unopened door. She used “No” so often after her, she forgot “Yes” existed.

She forgot life existed.


Originally published in The Junction via Medium.

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