AT THE CLUB IN HEAVEN FOR SINGLE MOMS, THE DJ MAKES A SPEECH
This one goes out to all the single moms who have shut themselves in their bathroom and are currently dancing to ska punk, middle fingers HIGH the fuck up!! This one’s for the moms who got six words into this poem before they had to jump up to wipe a runny nose, throw together a pb&j, put a band-aid on a booboo!! Make some fucking NOISE for the single moms that have been having a hard time since they were seventeen years old but have managed to teach their kids that life is beautiful!! Here’s one for when they told you that the world wasn’t for you, so you spit in their face and said you didn’t need their rotten world, you were building a better one anyway!! I want it to get loud for those who got so used to the rug getting pulled out from under them, they learned to turn that shit into a magic carpet and ride it off into a beautiful future they crafted from their own good, good hearts. To infinity and beyond, baby! To infinity and fucking beyond!
WHY YOUR LOVE MAKES ME AFRAID SOMETIMES
One time someone loved me so much they put a lit cigarette out on my arm. One time someone loved me so much they told my Christian mother that I had been sneaking out to have sex just because they were sad I wasn’t having sex with them. One time someone loved me so much they tried to push me into a beach bonfire. One time someone loved me so much that it became unsafe for me to go see any bands I liked, because they would be waiting for me there. One time someone loved me so much they left their religion, then told the world I was a false God. One time someone loved me so much they forgot what “no” meant. One time someone loved me so much they nearly took the door off its hinges. One time someone loved me so much they dreamt me an early grave.
Love has always been a rusty scissor bouquet. I am trying to learn what it means to be given roses.
A COWGIRL WAKES FROM A DREAM ABOUT HOME
I can’t read them, the poems about family.
Mothers and fathers corralled together in the Arizona sunset. Kicking up shimmering dust.
Grazing
in the ancestral fields. At night they huddle together, warm and cozy like a ninety year old quilt
passed down and down and down again.
I can’t read them. I am tending my tumbleweed flock. Mosey along, now.
Kimberly Wolf is a bipolar mom living in Texas. Don't even get her started about how much she loves mountains. You can find more of her work in trampset, Anti-Heroin Chic, Variant Literature, and more. You can follow her on Twitter @KimmieWolf.