I. google chat with (75 lines) (September)
I can read it with the omniscience of a memoirist
or a sad god… I’m thinking of poor Oedipus
and all those unlucky Greeks…
I like the way it starts because I like
the way I sound when I am desperately in love.
I twist away and away. Organza flight.
Salome’s veils. I am trying a distraction. Unusual.
I can taste the end, it is rank and bad like gristle…
Although I like the way it ends. Because I like
the way I sound when I am angry.
I sound like I am holding a knife
and you are holding begonias. Then I imagine
you must have a little throb in your voice.
So sad. It is like watching a bad movie…
when you speak I want to scatter flower petals
in my bath-water and wear silk and French updos.
I want a fainting couch…
II. txt (July)
I want you to tell me something incriminating
I mean really incriminating
Like you’ve never told anyone that before
I want to know you so well
If I could sit at your feet I would
I want to know your kidneys
Like pulling rope out of ur mouth
I wish I were a snake charmer
I want to tell you about the inside of my throat
Hard to think straight so late at night
Like falling into blue
I’ll regret this tomorrow like a drunkard
III. track no 11 (April)
One day I woke up and found myself
in high tide. I never knew
and suddenly. I was
a different girl. Every day
I tried to toss myself into the froth.
People kept asking me, What’s
wrong? Why do you keep
doing this? I told them
I liked the sea. So my father
bought me a beach house
but I said, no, no. I just kept running
into the sea. What’s the matter
with her, said my sister. But I
just couldn’t get enough!
My mother stood on shore
with her shiny eyes and wet cheeks.
She tried to take a picture of me
with her camera’s Action Shot mode
as I swam away. But what if you get lost? she said.
IV. I have to skip these songs they (November)
are like little girls in peach dresses
and black dotted veils.
The little girls in peach dresses
are like leeches. They have clammy hands
but they are so gentle
when they tie you to the bedposts…
They are a woody mist
on your upper thighs…
When little girls tie you to the bedposts
you have to puff out your chest and inhale
so the ropes will be tied loose.
I can see myself in the side mirror.
I can feel each vertebrae
twisting and twisting…
DARK MAGIC INSTANT ROAST COFFEE
I know what I am getting into.
It is like keeping my fingers in the socket–
Coffee is such a curse. I can’t stop talking
and I can feel my heartbeat fast as a mouse
if I stroke my neck.
If I drink coffee
I will stew in class all day. Grimy.
Yuck, it’s like pulling rings off your fingers.
Like apologizing to a store owner. Waiting for
the phone to ring. Aaggh! So bad!
Yes I know what I am getting into.
And I know what I am getting into
if I lean in so close. Yes, I know how
I speak in dribbles and starts. Also
how I know a little mouse in my neck.
Believe me I know how impatient.
Yes, and how grimy. I can want
bad like rubbing writing off my hand.
I know how the poor shave on your chin
makes it like twisting a brick against my cheek.
I know how tomorrow I will silence my phone…
YES I know what I am getting into, it is like keeping my fingers in the socket!!
Tho I am a nice girl
there is blood in me…
When I see strangers
I want to fall in love…
Then I want them to take my hands
and teach me slow…
I like to see a luscious girl
in the mirror…
But it is hard to do
when I am making eye contact with bastards!
do something to me
vaguely maternal and sexy…
When I see bruises
I want to kneel down
and stroke them and kiss them…
tiny flowers blooming
up and down your legs
like climbing vines…
LEDA AND NO ONE MORE
Leda and no one more
thrilling Leda I hope
your mother crosses herself
Leda how near Like breathing
on a window pane Then
writing your name inside of a heart
Or a smiley face with ♥♥ for eyes
I am very good at being in love
I like to do it And I try very hard
I light candles when I bathe And
I’m not ashamed of that either See
So I will tell you straight I almost couldn’t
trim your hair It was almost
too much Your lovely skim milk
feet in the bathtub And
your shirt puddled
at your feet even (So as not to get hair
in the shirt Your foresight is exquisite
Leda) And how near Leda And every hair
a perfect froth You are so
still So patient Even with me Leda I
like the way you sing Don’t sing though
Leda or I will cut your hair crooked
I told you it was almost
too much Leda
But a soap bubble
for your arms and torso
Leda how near Leda
Gabriella Gonzales, Age 16, Grade 11, Bard High School Early College, Silver Key