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grey days

08 Feb
grey days
settle like dust
outline my body
feels like death
watch the clock
hour by hour until
grey nights
begin their shift.eyes open, incessant images loop.
las manos de mi abuela
patting dough coated with flour into tortillas
las manos patting.
dough folded into tortillas.
flour dust settling.
las manos de mi abuela.
I haven’t moved in 6 hours, feels like 1, feels like 12.
she died when I was 14.my bed comforts me as much as
it reminds me
I am ungrateful
wasting time
wasting away
what a waste
my friend with MS
my cousin with cancer
my aging parents
tears slip down when I blink
goddamn grey days.

my bladder pouts
10pm darkness
urges me towards the toilet
I press pause. Use auto-pilota.
turn on the shower
make the most of the upright position.

remember when I was 12
beach tanned browness
envy of the white girls
their eye on me as their skin turned red
ocean waves like 3 dollar boardwalk rides
I’m too far out
ocean wave like he slapped me once
he grabs my ankles
I spin
hands over skinny ass legs
just enough time above water to see the white girls
pretend they don’t notice
headlock in the undertow
sounds like a faucet gushing
Im embryo in the womb.
Im laundry in the wash.
Im brown girl in a watery grave.

these legs dug into sand
dreaming feet like anchors
sputtering to shore
I saved myself
my brothers watched
they think I can do everything on my own now
I am drowning
in grey days
five this month already.

its too hot in the shower
its too cold in the house
im towel dry but my hair is wet
I have nothing to wear
the mirror thinks my eyes are too small
I still like my feet
there is no food in the house
if I had friends they would have texted
i turn off the light
i climb into bed naked
I press play
las manos de mi abuela
it’s 6 hours until sunrise.

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Posted by on February 8, 2013 in Her stories

 

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