holes of my salvation army

/ mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments
mbrazfieldm (c) 2024

i don’t want to be a Neruda love poem girl
i want my thoughts to be admired like the turquoise gold around the throat of a hummingbird
i don’t want a boy to be my knight in anything shiny valiant or stunning
i want him to see the blaze inside me through the holes of my Salvation Army black jeans

custos placitorum coronae

/ mbrazfieldm / 3 Comments

sorry i haven’t been by in nights
ive been on the high and drunk
running after your unrequited children
do you know how hard they live
the chance to win is really small
walking with your zombie children
we’ve learned a lot about the battle
whispering strategies into starving ears we crawl
above the city and her walls praying
dusting lime on dying children

4

/ mbrazfieldm / 2 Comments

when i was 4
i followed you around
my old man young
at 25 raging away
at red blooded expectation
it was on those
pavements where i walked
in my buster browns
rock hard Bazooka Joe
in my jaws learning
to crush the pain
even at 4 i
disagreed with the politics
of calling you daddy
3 hours after you
smacked my mommy in
her mouth of hate
4 was an age
of converging lives desperate
for an out away
from each other though
my post infant mind
inherently knew that this
trip would not be
the last to take
place in yours and
hers non sequitur marriage