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Frizz (Ars Poetica)

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Amaze me, I wish I could do it for myself but I am

half the stature and below my desire.

What would I do for it?

Golden Petals shine open.

That’s not right

It’s off

Mean it.

 

Mean it.

Lint balls that prickle in my hair, I take out long pieces along with frizz.

Even the dizzy-minded, stolen cycle

Cavity-rotten kids

They notice.

They’ll call me out my name. I rather take it out. Frizz is better.

Unkept

Years, breaks down

Beautiful Homes

Portrait sight, a road away from my step.

I could design it

Make it mean something, be bold or subtle.

Show humans the beauty in a humble frame.

A Monkey.

A divider, it sits there.

I

 can’t stare at him

 or her

 it will get wild. Uncontrolled.

Ruin my portrait, I want it gone.

Tourist play with it, enable a reckless circus

They do everything.

Risk their hair, their stress, their clothes,

Their fingers.

While this animal bathes in gestures, teases

And

 

leaves

By night.

 

For many days

I could see it laugh at jokes, disrespect us, spread gossip

And run off.

It’s weird. He

Or she

does the same thing.

Daily.

Almost Forever.

 

 I skip meals, ignore friends, and watch out my window. Flashlight in my pocket.

 the light weighs down my pants, again,

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve knotted it.

My sister is interested in what interests me.

She waits by, her toys lack stories that provide grip.

My grip is on the door and a story to begin.

I notice how quiet she is.

A fidgeting

She plays with our disconnected doorknob.

 I could feel her stare at me still.

Still.

 

The monkey leaves

 

I run. My frizz lags behind me, I pull along my heavy pocket.

I chop my feet when I’m close. Slow down, at the welcome mat, I hover my fingers at the front door. Hollow creases and dents.

CREAK.

I guide my foot carefully.

Dark gaze, divided across my flashlight.

Jungled mess, wide space. Two doors.

Door to the bathroom

Snapped in half on the floor.

Nobody.

I jump over broken tiles.

Closet door. I slide it open!

 

Dust explodes everywhere.

I almost choke

Stuffy and old is how I can describe this smell.

The other side pushes heat waves of dry feces.

I’d hold my shirt over my head and into the back hook of my skull If I could.

 

I kick everything

Neat fashion.

every nook and cranny in my sight.

 I analyze piles, small pieces, big chunks, and Sharp tiles.

I reveal corner pockets of urine, expired cans and yellow wrappers to snacks tourists throw at the monkey

 for videos.

Wriggly tin ceilings hang off the upper walls. Green uneven growth

 little bugs

 

I swear I saw a rat too.

 

I snatch what I can and run for the sunset.

My feet trip on the welcome mat, I find any footing I can.

Wood chips slip, cinder blocks weigh me down, metal scraps scratch me on their way out.

 They all trip me in my path,

A trial behind me.

I turn back.

and

Fall.

My knee hits the ground.

A single chill through my spine, I feel a scrape burn on my knee.

Little screws poke my thigh.

 

Any second he could get me, I press against the ground.

 

 

 I Wind Myself

Back

Up.

And

Limp

With Everything

Back

Home.

 

Every single step

Feels Minutes Longer

Feet are exhausted

And it hurts

My whole right side

hurts

 

My sister watches it all from an outside view, drinking juice from our last container.

“GET BACK INSIDE!”

I couldn’t hold that back.

 

Not even seconds

I couldn’t even make it all the way there.

She curses back at me.

I can’t hear it.

Or don’t want to.

My colorful Jolie

Where did those other colors come from?

 

She runs back inside.

 

All my thoughts 

Ground.

 

I’m okay. I could do it.

I could do more.

I turn around, and crash back in.

I grab more and more.

sweat in my pupils.

 I kick broken bricks. 

Missing gaps

Fumble my knees

I don’t feel it.

I forgot

The pain

Careless over paths of glass.

Brush aside tiles with tin roofing.

The portrait expands.

 

A laid door.

 Dusty hue.

I prop it up.

Roaches, termites, little flies and

A pale

weak baby

 monkey.

Sweet eyes, just a baby.

 It looks straight at me and covers its head.

I laid the door to the side, and cupped my hand

Something in me, said

pick it up.

I see it’s a boy

I cradle his tiny warm body

He smelled so

Unkept.

Little frizz strands all around his head.

Like a crown

I think he was sleeping

Face still covered.

My frizz falls down over him.

I lean in.

 

“You want some food?”