Dirty 30 in 30

[sweepthefloor]

7

In pursuit of femininity, I paint my nails hot sparkle pink, with glitter, right before the baseball game. Squatting behind home plate,
he throws harder and harder and harder. It stings my hand, but I never flinch. He knows that, my eye is never off his fast pitch.

I don’t know if he likes me for the thrill of the runs batted in, but I bring him to home plate every time. The ball goes crack, while he stands on first base, waiting for the sound. We both travel around the diamond. He does not see the hot sparkle pink polish with glitter, but I don’t cry. It got ruined anyway.

In pursuit of femininity, I take out the two long braids before my eleventh birthday party. I stand in the mirror and brush one hundred strokes, bite my lips pink, and pinch my apple cheeks red. My hair becomes fluffy, shiny and wild. I have no dress, but these shorts are better than the baseball uniform, and catcher’s gear.

Oh this David! His soft brown eyelashes look like butterflies, the kind I want on my face. Next year he will go to the boy’s fast pitch, and I go to softball. I know I will miss him dearly, but I won’t miss his mean Father.

In pursuit of femininity, I sit quietly at my party, next to him. There are no pigtails for him to pull on. It is time for him to leave. He kisses my cheek quickly, while his Dad is blowing the horn, and he is gone. I knew I would never see him again.

 

[sweepthefloor]

8

Dumb-ing myself down
Is an easy way to
Keep my insides from falling out
Right now, my brain can only
Tolerate thoughts of you filling
My belly.
My small intelligence is slipped
In six small meals
Per day.
It is healthy this way.

 

[sweepthefloor]

9

You give me the whip
I hold it, and give it back.

You give me pants
I shred them with a box cutter.

You give me the car keys
I wreck the car.

You give me the keys again
I get out and walk away

You always cook my dinner
I stop eating

You abuse my mind in public
I stop going to your parties.

You don’t clip my wings
I fly out the open window.

 

[sweepthefloor]

10

Lover you went away
So I made love to the mountain
While you were gone

Before I left the house
I swept the floor clean
Cooked all your favorite dishes

And left them in the freezer
In case you decide
To come home.

 

[darkerdreamer]

Pussy Hud

A little decline in aesthetics
bought an image of shirred pink
against a background of fuscia
with a cherry on top

But no cherry this

Animate my pussy and pleasure
froths forth in instant
arousal and gratification
with the push of a button

Life was never so easy
______________________
Pussy Hud (June 11 edit)

My recent decline in aesthetics
and sense has bought me pixels
of shirred pink against a background
of naked taupe with a cherry on top.

But no cherry this--

Animate my pussy with the push
of a button to see virtual pleasure
froth forth in instant bytes
of arousal and cyber-gratification.

Life was never so easy.

SL in its bare bones, I should have expected it with that avatar.

 

[champagne1982]

SL in its bare bones, I should have expected it with that avatar.

<dances round dd in some kind of impossible gyration> And as is the wont of all avatars, I have morphed into a well-oiled Barbie-ish shape and some kind of flexi-haired temptress. I still go to poetry readings. I like confounding the male psyche on there... "What's a poet doing dancing her avatar for tips in a titty bar?"

 

[darkerdreamer]

<dances round dd in some kind of impossible gyration> And as is the wont of all avatars, I have morphed into a well-oiled Barbie-ish shape and some kind of flexi-haired temptress. I still go to poetry readings. I like confounding the male psyche on there... "What's a poet doing dancing her avatar for tips in a titty bar?"

I'll be sure to watch for the dancer spitting out clever villanelles with a Canadian flavor, I'll be the guy with a mohawk wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night in the back of the bar.

 

[sweepthefloor]

11

The words that spill on the page are gone.
They escaped the space of me
Running away from my pen
Like a dumb pig to the slaughterhouse.

Bucking.

Embracing the empty
Feeling lighter, words are heavy
Weighted objects.
That I don’t want to carry.

No bucking.

 

[sweepthefloor]

12

The Pyramids at Giza
Have a way of making one feel small.
The heat is overwhelming and dry.
The stones are enormous.
I ride on the sun ship.

 

[sweepthefloor]

13

Take me back to the Mediterranean Sea
My belly can digest olives
And feta cheese and black coffee
To see the sea star in the clear water
Clear mind, again.

 

[sweepthefloor]

14

The emerald island, looks like a quilt, with different patches of green sewn together on my heart. I gave all my money to tinkers, and lost my Fathers small pipes on a bus. We danced at a wedding, where the girls looked under kilts to see what was underneath. I stayed up all night, slept on a dock in front of a lake, surrounded by cliffs. I got bronchitis that took me six weeks to recover from, cough, cough, and cough. I laughed as the lads asked me “How’s the craic?” And I replied, “ I don’t fucking smoke crack.” I met his parents. We wrote lots of letters, still do. The Northern check points annoyed me, but I let it go. I still tap feet time to his fiddles sailor’s hornpipe, and I am the best Highland fling. Watch me lace up my gillies.

 

[sweepthefloor]

15-Nicolai

Locks me up in an artist’s mansion. Throws James Joyce at my face. Forces me to make sculpture for the next pour. Pulls my hair, throws me in the shower. Beds me, spread in silence. Whispers stop squirming. Tells me, you will be my wife and never deny me. I ran away.

 

[sweepthefloor]

16

He built me a swing, attached to his winch
So that I can play in the city street
Where the stars don’t shine
And I pretend to dangle from a tree.

 

[sweepthefloor]

17

Who needs fireworks?
Or television
When we get to watch
Smoke stacks being demolished
From the inside.

 

[sweepthefloor]

18

I went up to the roof to get out of the house. Creeping through the attic to not disturb the bats sleeping quietly hanging upside down from the rafters. I climbed out through the attic window carefully stepping in spots to make sure the roof was not rotted. Carrying baby oil mixed with iodine to turn my skin brown. Everyone gets a nice tan: I just burn, freckle, peel and turn white again and then you might see through me.

I went up to the roof to get out of the house. I hardly care who is leaving whom, who is mad at whom, who is hitting whom, or who wants me. I hear the dishes breaking and more plaster coming down off the walls. I can assess the damage on bruised cheeks and shards of stoneware coffee cups. I hide there all night because I know after the sun sets the bats wake up to leave the nest and might get tangled in my hair.

I went up to the roof to get out of the house. I see the people on their stoops. I wonder if stoop really is a word to describe your brick front porch. I look it up in the dictionary and cannot find my definition. If it is not a word in the dictionary with the correct definition, how did I even learn it?

I went up to the roof to get out of the house. My eyes are getting black circles around them and my skin is turning ashy but no one seems to notice. I was seen and not heard; now I am neither seen nor heard. My plaid skirt uniform is getting shorter or my knees are getting bigger and my socks are getting smaller. I do not iron it anymore before school and it smells like smoke.

I went up to the roof to get out of the house. My Dad is distilling moonshine on the kitchen stove; the big pot is called the still. I see some copper tubing and some clear liquid dripping, drop by drop into a clear glass bottle labeled XXX. This is a basic chemistry lab in my house. I pray he separates the methanol from the ethanol first to prevent blindness by consumption that I read about in the library book that he borrowed to learn how to do this.

I went up to the roof to get out of the house. Looking down on my backyard I see the antique bathtub, the kind with feet. It is filled with algae and goldfish. Everyone at school thinks that is where I take my baths and I agree to avoid a conversation and walk away. The neighbor across the alley way is sleeping in his camp naked again.

I went up to the roof to get out of the house. I look up and see stars clearly. I wonder about the divine. I feel really small and unimportant. I know that the world has to be bigger than this patch.

I went up to the roof to get out of the house. I just brushed my teeth with my toothbrush dipped into a box of pure baking soda and I rinse with hydrogen peroxide. It does not stop me from eating salty chips and drinking diet cola. It appears to be fight night with the twins across the street battling it out with a baseball bats and a shovel. I know I will never need a television anyway.

I went up to the roof to get out of the house. Packing my Red Ryder BB gun and plenty of ammunition to destroy the shiny red stop sign on the corner of the street. The stop sign is the enemy because no one stops anything anyway ever. A sniper, I will assassinate the stop sign! The bratty boys down the street have found me out; I point my rifle at them and they walk away quietly.

I went up to the roof to get out of the house. I finally sleep up there for years and years. I wake up all grown and thirsty. I go inside and find everything and everyone the same. I walk out the front door drinking a tongue full of salty tears.

 

[sweepthefloor]

19

I am just a page-turner
Cheap dime store novel
Written with the sight words
Of a second grade elementary student
How easily the story unfolds
Into your earnest ears
Whispers all day and certainly the night
Fleetly flying through each chapter
Where I am fondled and smelled
Dog-eared paged, a broken spine
Sleep with me for days
You wake up to find me
Next to you wide open.
Read me in the hot bubble bath
Comprehend me through your dinners
Unravel me through sleepless nights

Find the finale, the end, and the extreme
Coupe de grace; it is over.
Leave me to a dusty bookshelf,
Or the give-a-way box.
I am your page-turner.

 

[sweepthefloor]

20

Dance with the sky
To the sun that burns
And freckles me

Dance with the clouds
Where I exist
And dream lightly

Dance with the blue
That softens my eyes
And deepens them

Dance with the sky
To feel love for a minute
And the rain pours

From the sky dancing in my eye

 

[sweepthefloor]

21

The porcelain tub is so heavy. We moved a double door safe together with nothing more than a pry bar. It is just not possible this time. We need a hand truck and straps.

Let’s clean this old house instead. A bubble bath in that tub would be well worth the work. The words are always light. Expectation leads to frustration, so we carry on.

Bootstraps when she left. Left us with nothing, not even a fork. The antique wood lathe in the living room is good for a serving bar, but you will all sit crossed legged on the floor. It is swept.

The sad truth is they always want to come back after they leave. They are never allowed.

It feels good at the sink, washing your dishes. I might break my own heart, but I can always do this. Painting the house will be easy in your boom boom truck.

A potbelly stove will fit nicely there. You never know when the power will go out. We will always be able to boil water, or stone soup.

 

[sweepthefloor]

22

Throw, throw pretty knots
Chest surgeon.
(take control of this situation)

Box stitch, purse stitch
It does not matter now.
(any stitch will work, bleeding out)

Put down, down pretty knots
With a steady ready hand.
(think, work, sew)

These fingers pass no clamps
This chest is cracked open.
(palliative care)

 

[PandoraGlitters]

Interesting work, SweepTheFloor. Keep it up! I'm enjoying reading it.

 

[champagne1982]

Some number, some day in July...

Salute to my surgeon

such glorious ego from a small-built man
the only man to reach inside and stop
my heartbeat until only you say go again

I submit to fate and you. In this,
there is no other supreme master.

 

[sweepthefloor]

Some number, some day in July...

Salute to my surgeon

such glorious ego from a small-built man
the only man to reach inside and stop
my heartbeat until only you say go again

I submit to fate and you. In this,
there is no other supreme master.

I love it.

 

[sweepthefloor]

Interesting work, SweepTheFloor. Keep it up! I'm enjoying reading it.

Thank you! 8 more this week, then I might go back to 007!

 

[sweepthefloor]

23

The hammock
It swings gently

Hurt me with your
Want, love, pain.

Whispers
Under the blanket

Don’t move.

 

[sweepthefloor]

24

Head wounds may cause erections
The therapeutic treatment for this

May require tender love making
Or hair pulling and tears

I am still with you.