from Spill

Robin Tremblay McGaw

 

February

Helplessness slit through until it bleeds. Not retired but jubilado. The distance between cultures. You have everything but nothing. Privilege hides behind a mantle. The severity of the dismantled. Hello? Nest to whom she sits. Machego cheese smells a little like old clothes. When I was in your belly I was in heaven. When we fly on a plane, where are all the terrorists. To grasp poorly its spooky presence. The zoot suits of racism. Courtesy of public tv. A lovely tea party on the ceiling. If you are kind enough to come with me. A worthless frivolity.

Twenty songs of despair and one love song. Somewhere. I have gone marking the atlas of your body with crosses of fire.

Rain so heavy that this little room will float. In transit is good. Unanchored. Women and children first. The sink is full of ice and cheap champagne before it was clear. The flu is an opportunity for brandy. Wine a relaxer. Mexico requires cerveza after cerveza or two for one at the same time. Blank because how to describe it. A person in absentia. She recused herself from testimony. Verisimilitude. It must have appeared unsinkable simply because of its size.

The immobility of the person drinking whites out. The immobility of the person writing sets the world in motion. To have chance at least. Still red wine in a cut glass suggests blood but whose. Years near the sea in a hotel room. Severe arguments and a bite that left bruises in the shape of teeth marks. A poem. I have forgotten what was wanted then.

The Hannah Crafts book may be the earliest known novel by a black woman slave educated on the fly through books in her mistress’s master’s library. Before 1855.

You Americans have everything and yet nothing. It is possible to spend $35 to hear someone say that. Still a Roles Royce has a satisfying ride.

Perro cantinara. The dog licks its cock and balls which the painter has rendered a man’s. The tavern is the setting for his commedia dell’arte. It’s that or the church he said. excise the ore. I’ll go another route for mine which is to say I’ll move through this female body. Those rabid dog fucks interspersed with the lingering eating and splayed lap dancer Cirque du Soleil girl postures (she could eat herself). Footnoting the sources is polite or following the rules even when beside the point. Which is to say operate within boundaries. To be rid of that. Or light it up. His sole point being the hole at the tip of his cock. Pop-a-lock, daddy. The arched hunched doggy spine as she drops clean, perfectly formed turds.


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