Matzalan around midnight a little wind whiffles the palms
scours the quick pink of walls lanterns bob on the Pacific
we’re pinnisulaed here for Christmas mother and I
in this desolate hotel in this inconceivable country suppurating
with affection
the dance music has all gone home the mariachi bands the salsa
dancers
patrons snorting coke lines drinking from shot glasses like giant
thimbles
the silence is like a heart full of nothingness
the lapis lazuli of the pool glistens blades overhead hum like a fuse
then the voice begins the voice jackhammers
a male voice from the next door cursing and pumping
bloodying the darkness like a burning wheel penetrating the plaster
you whore whore whore that’s all you are then a thump
another thump of a body thrown and the whimpering the sobbing
the pink wall vibrates the painting of sunflower shifts
I’m so sorry sorry sorry please don’t don’t I’m sorry please…
grave consonants scratched vowels against the wall what is
broken smashes
the sounds of syllables half-dead forgetting the love of sentences
then again the brutal voice of Zeus or Thor slut slut no good
Hooker
shattered glass and the Lucifer laughter and mother saying
sh-hh-shhh her finger perpendicular on her lips a metronome
of caution
the hills empurpled in the distance light splinters on the water
the stars stick and sting moon the color of detritus
mother bangs the wall with her fists says stop stop it we’re
sleeping in here
the male voice answers booms big as God the voice answers
huffs and puffs
Bitch, come over here and I’ll get you too! the wolf voice and the
fist against the wall falls heavy
pity the ears for what they’ve witnessed the eye cannot see in
the spilled sickness
Get the phone mother insists get the phone she whispers
I wish I were a mole I could see in the dark dialing furiously dialing
Hablas Engles? Hablas English? No English. Anyone one one
mother’s voice trails Police Police Please Please ease ease
and the phone drops like a stone in a hollow pond No one speaks
English.
Thump Thump. Shhhh-hhhh then the moan, blue moan of a
mourning dove
we cannot do a thing love deconstructing or lust I’ll
blow your house down
we’re holding each other mother and I twisted together like
two stuck pigs.
Author Bio:
Leonore Wilson is on the MFA advisory board at St. Mary's College. She has taught English and Creative Writing throughout the Bay Area. Her work has been published in such magazines as Quarterly West, Third Coast, Madison Review, Canary, etc. She has been nominated for four Pushcart Awards and has two poetry books: Western Solstice (Hiraeth Press) and Tremendum, Augustum (Kelsay Books).
scours the quick pink of walls lanterns bob on the Pacific
we’re pinnisulaed here for Christmas mother and I
in this desolate hotel in this inconceivable country suppurating
with affection
the dance music has all gone home the mariachi bands the salsa
dancers
patrons snorting coke lines drinking from shot glasses like giant
thimbles
the silence is like a heart full of nothingness
the lapis lazuli of the pool glistens blades overhead hum like a fuse
then the voice begins the voice jackhammers
a male voice from the next door cursing and pumping
bloodying the darkness like a burning wheel penetrating the plaster
you whore whore whore that’s all you are then a thump
another thump of a body thrown and the whimpering the sobbing
the pink wall vibrates the painting of sunflower shifts
I’m so sorry sorry sorry please don’t don’t I’m sorry please…
grave consonants scratched vowels against the wall what is
broken smashes
the sounds of syllables half-dead forgetting the love of sentences
then again the brutal voice of Zeus or Thor slut slut no good
Hooker
shattered glass and the Lucifer laughter and mother saying
sh-hh-shhh her finger perpendicular on her lips a metronome
of caution
the hills empurpled in the distance light splinters on the water
the stars stick and sting moon the color of detritus
mother bangs the wall with her fists says stop stop it we’re
sleeping in here
the male voice answers booms big as God the voice answers
huffs and puffs
Bitch, come over here and I’ll get you too! the wolf voice and the
fist against the wall falls heavy
pity the ears for what they’ve witnessed the eye cannot see in
the spilled sickness
Get the phone mother insists get the phone she whispers
I wish I were a mole I could see in the dark dialing furiously dialing
Hablas Engles? Hablas English? No English. Anyone one one
mother’s voice trails Police Police Please Please ease ease
and the phone drops like a stone in a hollow pond No one speaks
English.
Thump Thump. Shhhh-hhhh then the moan, blue moan of a
mourning dove
we cannot do a thing love deconstructing or lust I’ll
blow your house down
we’re holding each other mother and I twisted together like
two stuck pigs.
Author Bio:
Leonore Wilson is on the MFA advisory board at St. Mary's College. She has taught English and Creative Writing throughout the Bay Area. Her work has been published in such magazines as Quarterly West, Third Coast, Madison Review, Canary, etc. She has been nominated for four Pushcart Awards and has two poetry books: Western Solstice (Hiraeth Press) and Tremendum, Augustum (Kelsay Books).
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