jumping spiders
how to begin the story of that house, that house of never too much heady wine and hard cheese, house that thumped earth, wind & fire on repeat, its dappled chamois walls eternally itching to be disco lit, lava lamps swerving in purple counterpoint, house of sweat soaked bitter enders and stragglers, stray cats and terriers, house that saw more than its share of annual italian family melodrama at the holidays, its door slams as expected as nonna’s gnocchi or ma’s pizzaiola, house of the falling porch and squirrels in the crawlspace, always something lurking in the crevices, always something on the edge of broken, that house of love and lies, oh, how i loved and hated that house, that house of living breathing ghosts that knew a secret history, that house of no apologies, that house full of quiet dread and creeping, i kept a jelly jar by the bedroom window to catch and release all the frequent fliers and crawlers, those six-and eight-leggers who traveled through the cracks to set up shop in that house, how they filled the emptiness, those ladybugs by the dozens sunning on the sill all summer long, the bark beetles taking a break from devouring the giant beech tree, the occasional bumblebee losing its way from the daisies in the garden, once that house hosted a family of jumping spiders emerging behind the turbo toilet whose flush could wake our city block, it’s said that jumping spiders can see the moon, i scooped them up with the lid and set them free out back, thinking all they wanted was in and all i wanted was out of there.
full malibu
in my dreamhouse playtime with barbies
always started with swimsuits & splits
they pressed pink lips against lips against necks
then full malibu striptease their hands stirred
every part of their bodies fingers brushed
wisps of blond hair pressed blonde hips
legs interlaced rubbing tribbing
breasts to breasts crotch to crotch lite
brite threw primary colors on curves
ken watched from the teal fashion closet
on occasion barbie let g.i. joe
take her from behind while her friends took turns
pleasing her from the front then forgot about
joe when it was naked girl time on pillows
road trip
ma & i are on the road
to virginia beach got up at 5 a.m.
to beat the traffic out of chicago packed
the cooler with ice & tab & grabbed
our bags with bikinis & cutoffs
slipped into flipflops left a note
for dad & marco & packed the corolla
we take this trip every summer just us
girls when we hit the skyway i load my
yellow cassette deck cue freebird our
theme song roll down the windows thick
industrial air blows in our hair
& ma smiling i see her soften flying far
from our quiet home purple beech
tree mourning doves sing perch-coo.
b movie
foreshadows crawl on anemone. grey
nimbostratus shroud. the strong female lead
lets her imagination run rampant in the blue
hour. wears her cat eye thick & expertly winged. smokes
only for glamour & atmosphere. excessive wardrobe changes
dripping in zirconia & chameleon. the moon in a star turn
all simmer & slink. gratuitous dark alley liaison
a jump cut away. plot convoluted variation on a theme—
girl sees impending doom but the patriarchy wears
the white lab coats. she removes all sharp objects
from the house in an overabundance of dream
wringing. there will be a crime. the ocean
will take the fall. it’s déjà vu all over again—
the moon is the obvious suspect & no one ever sees it coming.
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