Poetry by Peach Delphine

Gerry Dincher CC



catfish or salt pork 

the aesthetic construct is a pudding cup 
overflowing emptiness congealed on a spoon

biscuits and bacon breakfast 
sly possum unfolds the road to perdition 
there are no accommodations 
 
27 days of meds no refills no doctor
the aesthetic vision is a cleansing 
why'd you stay in a shithole state 
why'd  you stay

it's not that what is gone wasn't worth saving 
the ephemeral is our only constant
a sandbar of bones massacres plantations
work camps a constant flowering 
la florida welcomes
 arrive stoned 

speaking people into memory 
 your kind she says as opportunity knocks 
sleepy possum rolls out of the rack grabs  her bag
and knife slips out the back
                                                           across porch past lantanas 
bee thick tracks into dusty oranges

slick possum sleeps on the floor in her sandals
shorts tank top pack cinched 
toothbrush in foil once you get out 
you'll eat a round before going back
mental health my ass baby that aesthetic was thorazine drool

we come to the spoon       this place we came from
elders swept away some said a hand of god some neglect 
some direct action
            some had careers assimilation 
some learned to run and run and run sleepless lean
some burned carbonized       ash made word some
never learned to forget 
                                                  racoon eyed compulsive 
hand washing 

we don't leave our own behind 
                               another relentless theory time 
wrecked         sly possum believed accommodation
was just another collar 

constructs fail eventually 
there was a girl
caught the bus some thirty years before 
babe you gotta get out here before they start nailing  bitches to trees 
some stayed with the struggle 
spoon blade toothbrush living out of a pack

the working theory of swimming with gators 
water coffee dark
was a safer bet
sometimes you make it across just a little tug of the tail
sometimes you wake
                                   purple morning glories in the window
unstrap sandals and stay 





turning root vegetables 

we never saw eye to eye on biscuits
but after the hurricane 
learning to cook in the reflector oven
fanning reluctant turkey oak coals
it became clear we both were wrong

there is value in negation meaning in absence
the empty hand is not a promise     local bitches 
we'd  all been to Gasparilla so we formed our own krewe 
poet as prophet was nothing to whore as oracle 

there are rules in cooking learned only through failure 
attention to detail will save your ass
it was the same with that life
learning to see what was hidden read
what was unspoken 

memory another commodity
                  experience mined vicariously 
but only the cozy stuff shiny endings 
not the vigils outside of hospitals hoping for a hand wave 
living on the run deprogramming night sweats
arrested for solicitation walking for a slurpee of an afternoon 
without ac same same as it ever was 
without health care same as it ever was 
some fuckwit thinking he can beat on a girl
same        tho if you beat back that's assault 
living as fluid                 kitchen work for cash
visibility requires commitment       a steady hand 
we've sold flesh 
spent blood as if it actually bought us anything 
that hasn't been poured away by the indifferent 
rioting quietly  behind screens within gated 
communities ether swaddled 
blessing is in the ear of the beholder 

silent speaking of others 
never needing to look away from what you were never
willing to see 
there is only one day               continually lifting face from ash
a mouth swallowing agency and voice
 a singularity of indifference 
masticating all our dreams incandescent gravy

squat man in dress socks strips us with a pen
25 days of meds left 
day by day ever clearer our fate is our own 
only by our own hand
will we ever be free
as it's ever been 
same day rising 
great merciless eye
yet we stay              roots reaching 
for the near aquifer 





angular 

my face was a mess but my dress was fine 
head full of drowse tongue slick as spoon 
some scars float on the surface of a word 
some scars defy time a text liquid stone
lost in foliage head full of sand salt heavy
 tide coughing up small whelks tritons conch
eyes of glyph tongue of shards

she left the breeze languid in my palms
squall rings the changes rolling over flat woods
she left morning beneath my window dew heavy
she brought fat pine singed fragrant 
we poached shrimp plump pinks soused in hot sauce
forgot the salad drank all the wine
the day the judge certified my name

we sit by the cut cormorants sunning on riprap 
we hold hands as if our bones aren't heavy enough 
to hold us here as if our hearts aren't heavy enough 
to hold us here as if any hurricane could sweep us away
as if any law could do as much

wind in her face
something to be acknowledged 
probabilities of survival were diminishing 
as scullery is not principality of the air
life without a name     relentlessly burnished 
translucency     not everyone gets theirs 
weight of memory measure of absence
what cannot be quantified thrives 

to be fluid is to understand the construct 
of form       we endure what the comfortable call
temporary adversity in an endless loop 
collaborating trash is what she said
 having eaten
flesh of vine there is now no one who can part us
sea in her hands moon in her hair
we unstitch wind from wave
it's how we've always faced what's coming
visible 
                  sometimes afraid
                          growing what the tongue
can never encompass what hand 
her hand      only her hand 
            can summon
 from the chest         unlocked
     burning burning burning 
time      for othering time    for offering 
point us towards the tenderness that we may see it
from across the river    long on this trace
night flowers trailing at thickets edge
wicked and divine 

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Peach Delphine is trans from Tampa, Florida.