just_abi

the grimy slush of refrozen snow, once white now tainted and muddied by cultural filth
peeling paint
crumbling foundations
narrow street
where trash stumbles in the clogged gutters
where abused children wander
searching for love for warmth for home
where man-child cliques gather to play games
‘Victim’, find a homeless target and beat him
to alleviate boredom or pain or fear
where baby girls braid their hair in flashy designs
and flash their teeth flash their legs flash their fists flash their innocence
the narrow street
where thumping bumping grating grinding
beats pound their anger into the cracked pavement
a song of retaliation
a chant of sorrow
and somewhere in the hidden earth
the blood of inhabitants long forgotten
joins in the cry
cry city cry
cry for the waste
cry for the pain
cry for the nothingness
that stolen land has grown
cry for the future of ourselves
cry history cry
cry for violence that has ‘civilized’ the once wild america
cry for the natives whose story is now buried underneath
the dark tar basketball court with the metal hoop
clanging in the polluted breeze
cry city cry
cry for history is repetitive
in the narrow street cry…

And the yellow picnic table
hanging from a candy cane rope on the tree’s bent limb
underneath a baby girl
with a gapped-tooth smile
tracing squiggles in the clouds
smearing emotion confusing
circumstance
oblivious of her mother
And the crispy clear clean oh so clean
clear turquoise air fills with purple bubbles
she releases from her tear ducts
she floats back to us defying
oppositional gravity helium descending tawny
taffy fingers taffy toes warm moist cookie dough
melted cocoa liquefied amber and maybe that sandalwood
scent too because she is strong and earthy
tangible a tart tangerine sour and sweet
oh so sweet but stinging juice in her mother’s eye
a real April in a real Friday on the stove
frying bananas her favorite “nummy”
dab of cinnamon and splash of bitter vanilla
squashing goo smacking on buttery mush
cheesy shreds
Pictures

Here’s mommy and daddy when we were happy
And here’s the plan we made and here’s the hugs we shared and
here’s the nights we held each other and here’s the mornings we rolled on our backs and spoke you into existence – hot morning breathe and sleep encrusted eyelids – here’s the cliché ending that should be your beginning should be you ripping out of me full of wails and squeals and flailing limbs instead of sliding silently oh so silently speaking in my sleep here’s your first tooth the fairy delivered an enamel necklace tiny white memories here’s the two halves of each embodying a whole here’s you – a reminder that we loved and made love and lived in love and love you

Baking in the sun
aloe vera gel on that burn red like your momma then
darker like your daddy
freckles in the summer on your forehead
like your auntie and that blush when you’re mad
fire cool down almost ferocious
stubbing your toe
I told you not to run barefoot bee sting bumblebee lil booger
And the 4th of July in the park sand in your shoes
and he threw it in your hair too? Good grief! Looks like
we got baths tonight but smell those ribs grandpa’s cookin and
grandma’s potato salad is cool as Rach brings the tostadas with sour
cream and Lili rolls her eyes don’t fight girls – (what goes around comes
around huh, Rach?) Yes Liliana can dance better than you, ya got
your momma’s rhythm sorry chica….go put your sweatshirt
back on it’s getting chilly dang it stupid mosquitoes are bad this year
but at least humidity isn’t quite as horrible as
It could be…it could be….