i
think of
you today
it was tough
her screams
biting at my ears
meant for him
and her
and them
the whole lot
maybe Jesus too
buk,
the women around here
but who knew
i’m a woman too
born and bruised
and i don’t have a clue
but then again i was her
a long time ago
her hands jingling
her bling about
like falling feathers
from the boxing ducks
at MacArthur park
little waist
banded by Calvin Ks
why do us tough girls always dress like thugs?
mother issues grab her tissues
here come the waterworks
you’d say
buk, dude
work was hard today
the LA streets
me at her teat
this grimy Goddamned city
as she shared
about the girls she had
and the guys she fucked
all in a litany of blows and scars
her brothers left on her
mother called it teaching her the ropes
buk, i pray to you
were women like this
back when?
or has politics and Hollywood
fooled us?
broken afraid her fists she raised
fragile steel jaw
little girl unspoken
tender where she should be strong
she weeps over her barrettes
her brother broke when she was four
not about the busted lip
her lover gave her
or the county checks that can’t support her and her only child
buk, how can i counsel
when i haven’t been
consoled myself?