Reckless

Tell me about your childhood, Mendieta. What are some things your mother said? Did you visit Varadero? Have you seen white sands, teal beaches? How the ocean watercolors itself? Nature—he’s an artist, y mi corazón es acuarela. I kid. My heart is a pulsing muscle, tough to eat. Not everything red is edible. Should we tell Eve, or do you think she already knows? I’ve always thought apples are such bland foods, not worth the sin. If you cut a pomegranate and inside you see brown seeds, do you still eat it? I’ll tell you what I did. I popped the seeds into my mouth like candy, little bombs that might explode. Crunched them like popcorn and swallowed; they never touched my tongue. When I got to the bottom,  swamp juices pooled in the basement of the fruit. Moldy atrium collapsing. Conspiring. But nothing happened. It’s like my mother always says, ¿de qué se eche a perder a que te haga daño? Es mejor que te haga daño . How would you, then, answer that question?

  II. Home to mud. Art is not  camouflage. You were no beast that hid, but one that bit, covered  your soft body in mud to reveal: nude beyond     skin, twigs clung  to your static, & dandelion seeds,  & clovers.     How lucky were we  to stumble upon a planet brown. This sludge, this clay won’t be mask, nor shroud, when we return to her we will be dirt &          we will be          (dirty). 

If there's pee on the seat it's my pee, battery's dead I killed it, Flat tire, I punctured it, like I punctured my body at age 13, I wanted to be pierced so badly, to feel the sharp bareness of a needle—like the syringe my aunt stabbed my buttcheeks with on nights when illness in my body ran rampant, sickly child, frail, in need of vitamins. If there's liquid on the mattress it's my bladder's. Hamster went feral, I released it. Light bulb went out, I let it. Holy water spilled, I sucked. Radio wailed, I wailed with it. Like MTV is a terrible substitute for a father, but I made do.

Why am I here three years later where your bedroom’s greasy yellow walls taunt me and the deflated birthday balloons your sister gave you hang taped above me in not your bed, not our bed, but your father’s, and if I made my way down the bedbug ridden carpet I’d find plaster peeling in the corners of the bathroom where I panicked, where you soothed while I vomited, helping my quaking body into cold showers because I thought water calmed me down like ocean—it didn’t, and that house was falling apart, we should’ve known, we did know, I told you stop talking, be quiet your voice made me nauseous in the deepest hollow of my gut, in the Park & Ride on Atlantic we shared an edible, I learned to sit with my panic, to befriend it, made it out empty- stomached, wiped my mouth on my wrist, put my clothes back on, snuck into bed where you laid half-high half-worried and said I’m okay, I’m okay,  now if only            I could st...

Poetry whispers in my ear. Says come to me, come to me, you know you want me. Poetry, I feel like a whore. Like a penny dropped to the bottom of a well that didn't even grant wishes. I'm here holding onto the moon like it's fucking tangible. Like I can sip my tea with joy, and brace myself from the cold, walk the beach, the golden sands, like I get it, like I feel it, but I don't. I don't get it. Poetry, I'm only yours. I'm only nothing and my hands are always cold. I'm empty, but the good kind of empty. Like unpacking a suitcase after a long absence from home. This void, so delicious, so purging; and off the suitcase goes to the back of the closet, to the bottom of the well where I, cheap penny, shine like a rockstar after fame. Dull and used, I exhausted my drug habit, my love song, my life.

All Of my lovers were butcher musicians We'll start a band one day in my daydreams We'll name it The Ones Who Got Away I'll say something like, Back me up guys, play louder And they'll say something like, Why do we have two guitarists and a bassist when what we really need is a drummer? And I'll say, Because I want to sing, and have a type They'll shrug their heavy shoulders and let out a sigh completely devoid of any sexual tension whatsoever