Poetry by Daliah Angelique

6/4/2020

Poetry by Daliah Angelique

Mayastar CC

I CAN’T WAIT FOR THE GNASHING OF TEETH

I CAN’T WAIT FOR THE ROCK AND THE HARD PLACE, I CAN’T WAIT TO BREAK THIS
CIRCLE OF SALT, LEAVE YOUR UGLY CLAY DOLL OF THIN BLOOD FOR A COSTCO
MOTHER IN A LIVE LAUGH LOVE T-SHIRT, I CAN’T WAIT FOR YOUR EGGY EYES TO
WEEP AND RUN AND I CAN’T WAIT FOR MY MILKY LEGS TO BURN SLOW, MY
BRONCHIAL SPASMS, MY CRYBABY TRIAD AND PATELLOFEMORAL UNEASE, I CAN’T
WAIT FOR KETOSIS AND KINDA SORTA MAYBE TO MEAN, ABSOLUTELY! I CAN’T
WAIT FOR ALL THE MOTEL BIBLES TO CATCH FIRE ALL AT ONCE AND MY SCARS TO YAWN
WIDE LIKE UGLY LITTLE MOUTHS SCREAMING HEAVENWARD AND I CAN’T WAIT TO
PRETEND YOU MIGHT CALL ME ONE DAY AND SAY “I WAS NEVER A MOTHER” OR “I
COULD BE IF I TRIED”.

I CAN’T WAIT TO MEET THE RAT KING AT THE WESTFIELD MCDONALD’S WITH NO MILK
OR SUGAR, NO McABSOLUTION OR McREPENTANCE. I CAN’T WAIT TO BE A
GRACELESS HAG THE REST OF MY LIFE, A WRETCHED WASTE OF SOFT AND GIRL,
THREE BROKEN COFFEE MUGS AND A SWOLLEN WRIST IN ONE AFTERNOON, THESE
THINGS I BREAK THEN SWEEP ASIDE, I CAN’T WAIT FOR MY OSTEOPOROSIS, FOR
YOU TO SPLIT THIS MISALIGNED PELVIS LIKE WISHBONE, I CAN’T WAIT TO KISS THE
BOTTOM OF ONONDAGA LAKE, I CAN’T WAIT FOR HYPOTHERMIA TO PLAY THIS
NERVOUS SYSTEM LIKE A PARLOR TRICK, THIS WINTER RAGE LIKE INFERNO ALL
AROUND ME, FOR THE FROST TO HUG EACH CELL SO TIGHTLY.

I CAN’T WAIT FOR MY HUSH BABY HUSH MONEY, I CAN’T WAIT FOR MY CELLULAR
TURNOVER, FOR THE RAGE TO RUN ME THROUGH LIKE BROADSWORD, I CAN’T WAIT
FOR MY MUCUS WARM AND YELLOW IN MY THROAT, THE MEAD AND THE HONEY AND
I WANT TO KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO GET TO THE POINT ALREADY, BREATHING
IN THROUGH THE NOSE AND OUT THROUGH THE MOUTH, WAITING PATIENTLY FOR
THE GREAT STRIP TEASE, A BREATHLESS BLUSHING MOTIF BEHIND EVERY VEIL
WAITING TO BE LIFTED, A HEADACHE WAITING TO RUPTURE, STIGMATA WAITING TO
MANIFEST, I CAN’T WAIT TO BEAR WITNESS TO THIS DYING WORLD WHILE I CAN STILL
WEEP.

a litany of scraped knees

i got to sit in the front of the truck
and
i got to kick the big red ball
and
i got to lick the pizza grease from my fingers
sit criss cross applesauce and
let you teach me how to play Resident Evil
teach me how to pour peroxide on scraped knees
teach me to stop crying,
these rules of the playground
rules of the body, rules of the street,
teach me psychic wounding, teach me,
toughen up

i wasted
i wasted
i wasted three psuedo-boyhoods
because i let my body
go soft like ripe fruit
because i listened when
they said
stay pretty and bite sized
and can you can you
can you
make your ruin more accomodating?

i think of hell as a tangle of limbs and
tobacco sweat and i think of heaven as the same, same but different,
how different?
how different am i from my sister?
sister with honey hair, and
blue eyes and so much like my father which is to say,

not like you

which is to say you,
Bastard,
you,
Homewrecker,
which is to say i became
fluent in the language of apologies,
an altar for someone else’s sin,
learning to turn this body inside out
into something you can't touch

i rinse my mouth with the promise of something better
that will probably just be something worse
i rinse my mouth with lake of fire
and prickly pear
and the metallic taste of misery

think of my body as a strip mall between
forest and interstate,
think of my life as the same grocery stores in different states,
lost coats and stray dogs, the textbook concept of
attachment theory

i think of Hell as i think of Heaven as i think of Hell as i think of
i think of i think of
tangled limbs,
climbing into my own hunger like it’s strength
crumpling into my own body
my own wasted girlhood/boyhood/girlhood
i think of being a hushed pearl tucked away in our mother’s ovaries again
and a dream she won’t regret yet

Daliah Angelique is a Pisces moon homo and steady birth companion. She currently resides in San Diego with her wife and chihuahua, studying sociology.