Read More: A brief interview with Amanda Chiado
Cake
When my parents say the wolves are loose,
I roll around my lucky tongue in the firelight
As my grandmother comes windborne like a bullet
With her ghostly arthritic fingers, wrinkled smile
To map the land of the undead in ultimate query.
It is always late when they request shadows
And I cash out devil’s food cake like a howling.
This sacrifice is the only way to save myself.
Father calls me the dagger of the dark, asks
For the chase of good against teeth. How
Can I say hello, hell no, no? My mother says
The world bites to draw blood, but even
The moon chases danger into mud. I run
Into the damp wood that is heavy with breath.
I dash to catch the wild things in their homes.
My father watches with a glass full of gold.
The wolves, like us, hide within warm stones.
I slip into their knowing, as they lick their young
With tongues that sit between rows of thorns.
Chew
When my parents say lay down in the margaritas,
They say they’ll take me back. I’m their favorite.
We lay all together under the slushy cloudscapes.
I eat handfuls of soil so I can swallow history.
They mean trouble, landslide, absolute slant, […]
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Bubbly
When my parents say its a hot air balloon day
I eat a noose for breakfast. My father chuckles
At the anatomical lung design, and fire blasts
Inside the angelic bulb pushing it into the skyline.
I have to find another kind of happiness within the gravity.
My breath is not made of threads that yank home
Like spider light. I imagine bubbly on their tongues, […]
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Read More: A brief interview with Amanda Chiado