Ashley broke the mirror.
and like a new bird
she used her 5th grade legs to punch me out of the cocoon of blankets--
out of the top bunk bed and onto the floor.
And it was my head that shattered its reflective bits
leaving my un-brushed waist-length hair dropping beads
as I carved a path
along the cat-pissed stained carpet
toward the door--
feeling the shards cut my ribs.
She landed by my side--
grabbed my ankles and dragged me back toward the ring. And I
kicked my legs like they were hidden brass knuckles,
forcing her grip to loosen.
I grew sightless as I clawed the air-- searching for her face. Yet she
twined a fist full of my hair into her hands
and yanked like she was holding a belt above her head.
I tapped out of fear of going bald. But as she turned in victory
I charged the back of her knees.
She fell forward
chipping a tooth against the solid wood of the bunk bed. Then
a jiggle of keys turning the knob of the front door.
And it was my fathers grip on the remote that left me bleeding
but it was my sisters silence that kept me scarred.
-sonja lynn mata
7.03.2010
If Billy Collins Could Get a Period
A response to Billy Collins poem "Introduction to Poetry"
which you can read here.
After a day of waterskiing,
I'd ask him to yank a dead mouse
from between his legs and watch it
dangle from its bloody tail.
Watch it twined in cotton rope while its little
mouth hiccups one last breath before catching
a whiff of his own stewing insides and taking those
pinched fingers
and plopping the dead mouse next
to used tissues and fingernail clippings.
His fingers stained and his nose turned he will proceed
to give the dead mouse some decency and place a
single square over its body.
But because the body is still warm, the white
bleeds red and he will not notice that the dead mouse
isn't finished with him for he is fumbling
with another mouse-- a new mouse.
And this mouse slides easily into the home
of the previous occupant and soon the new mouse will expand-- making
its home filled with its own belongings.
And once Billy is done, he will hopefully,
wash his hands and wave to his onlookers on the shore all the while
squishing his legs together, hoping that no one will
beat a confession out of him and ask him if he's had an introduction
to this.
-sonja lynn mata
which you can read here.
After a day of waterskiing,
I'd ask him to yank a dead mouse
from between his legs and watch it
dangle from its bloody tail.
Watch it twined in cotton rope while its little
mouth hiccups one last breath before catching
a whiff of his own stewing insides and taking those
pinched fingers
and plopping the dead mouse next
to used tissues and fingernail clippings.
His fingers stained and his nose turned he will proceed
to give the dead mouse some decency and place a
single square over its body.
But because the body is still warm, the white
bleeds red and he will not notice that the dead mouse
isn't finished with him for he is fumbling
with another mouse-- a new mouse.
And this mouse slides easily into the home
of the previous occupant and soon the new mouse will expand-- making
its home filled with its own belongings.
And once Billy is done, he will hopefully,
wash his hands and wave to his onlookers on the shore all the while
squishing his legs together, hoping that no one will
beat a confession out of him and ask him if he's had an introduction
to this.
-sonja lynn mata
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