I remember her tattoos and sharpened claws
As dead presidents shuffled through her fingers like a deck of cards.
She’d laugh at catty girls who thought she tried to steal their men and said,
“No bitch. I’m tryna fuck your father and take your college tuition money.”
So crooked she could eat soup with a corkscrew.
Yelling, “if it don’t make dollars, it don’t make sense!”
In the humid Miami kitchen doing work, cooking
Up the cold kiss of caine and a death threat.
Giving them a taste from tarnished spoons
While drinking the poison to quench her own thirst.
Tropical rain to hurricane, illusions of hydration all around.
Palm trees sway and crash like her dreams to the filthy flooded ground.
No love in sight,
Married to the money till death do them part.
Brass knuckles flaunt the lifelong loyal liaison,
Four finger ring instead of one.
Bambi brown eyes full of tears would rather feel pain than nothing at all.
This is life. Every night she’d strip, steal and lie
Alive. And bright as an explosion in the unlit heavens, loud
As fireworks blasting off kamikaze style
All at once. Her body as currency,
Long legs dance around the consequences until truth,
Like a blow to the face with a fist
Said it ain’t all sunshine and kittens.
The long disheartening chill of emptiness, this may be as good as it gets.