“Mama,” you’ll say. “Mama, Mama.” And I’ll be the one to blame. Taking a second fall that never pushes back against a tide of shits and mouthful of fucks. Nameless and easy to point out the pangs of absence and guilt. Useless and replaced with something even more robust and diligently cared for.
Tag: rose
CANDY SHOP
In my worst nightmares, I’m standing outside the Candy Shop,
crying on the sidewalk in Brooklyn.
A moment in time—
where only I could remember
the night you refused to come out and talk.
Send in the Clowns
Last month, I went to a reading where there was a clown. MX gallery right off Canal Street in Chinatown, up five grueling flights of stairs. I stumbled into the dimly lit art space out […]