• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 08
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a wall of one’s own

came the forceful approach, the wind passed through me
kindly, something to do with the aerodynamics
of arching the spine    resting the shoulder 
on the wall      keeping sights to the horizon.

we're waiting for a train,
a train that will take us far away. we know 
where we hope the train will take us, 
but we can't know for sure. 

and it doesn't matter, because we'll be together...

together underneath the faded grass mosaic ceiling,
together in dull athleisure,
together imagining a home in this wild matrix.
how does this home be-come

how do we make, of trauma, manure for the cherry blossom tree
in the backgarden, and the andalusian ceramic
for the kitchen floor we can't afford--

rewire the saboteur to give us free labour,
enrich us, and wealth us, 
work in accordance to the thousand prayers
my abuela sings for us in maracaibo.


a wall of one’s own

maybe we lean back like artists,
framing their picture, placing their next brushstroke.
maybe we lean back in anticipation,
after a first taste of a warming curry now waiting
for the heat to kick   rock   burst
into opening mouths, a human flamethrower.

who could with us then?

maybe i lean back contemplating the wishlist of today,
swarovski crystals, an airbrush, colour,
an XXL black fruit of the loom t-shirt. oversized;
à la kandy muse @drag con '22.

      maybe i love you and what we've become,
i feel time running and i'm revving up to chase it,
vroom, here i come, vroom...  as the loud swooosh
of underground coaches appears.

"mind the gap"