obstreperous crying from hungry newborn. crouched in bathroom, hands over ears. postpartum blues.
Mama killed daddy with a fork. Daddy used a knife. There were no queens, nor kings chronicled in their lives. Were born of slaves and common men. Were built of fire and ice. Were bathed in blood, and blood again. Until their great demise.
We were an ocean once. Travelers of worlds. We loved like love had meaning, and told ourselves it did. We shared breath under the Koloberry, and became one with Earth’s vibrations. We touched the fire that gave birth to a new world…
Mama said earth was born to house souls, like mamas housed babies and mittens housed hands. She said the moon held all earth’s memories, like she held me and daddy held her. After she died, I prayed that the moon would send me her voice, her face, her scent.
I bake you into every dream, every written word, every lost and last second. I tell you you’re my everything, extraordinary and radiant, like bees and skies and seas. You say the world is a fantasy, not many people see it, and crown me its queen.
I try to write you, Childhood, in beautiful prose, scrawl you in silken ink. I try to teleport there, to donuts for dinner, to Chickenpox and calamine lotion, sticking to Princess Ariel pajamas, to bunkbed slides. But you sit on the paper, bathetic, worthless…
Smell of used books, my fingers surf aging, wrinkled spines, 1899, 1985, such peaceful reveries, take nothing to remind, of half-priced royalty, other places, other times, constantly transported to futures and to pasts, the only type of freedom that lasts.
I had a dream inside a dream that you were me & I was me & hatred screamed for us to flee, to get the hell off his property. Cause we were vermin, spat deathly tongue, with tarnished spirits & broken skin. We had nowhere left to run, dreams were our final destination.
Remember that time I tried to purge you from my tired mind before a Russian exam & professor said, “Is everything fine?” “Да.” I smiled, suppressing the tears, that choked & seared my throat. Could only hope, you hadn’t lived in vain, finally free of the pain.
She didn’t deserve you. Didn’t know the sleepless nights endless cries, homemade, garbage lullabies, sung to get a half-assed smile, ease you for a little while, bridge that gap between pain & rage, like twisting smoke of burning sage. No, the world didn’t deserve you.