Netted
Fish
Wah,
wah, wah, the screams happen. Again. Noise and agony. White-ness.
Sucking it all in. So awful again. Now golden light, bless,
bless. Now gray. Now blackness. Nothing. But golden light
again, yes, yes, yes.
Me.
Wanting
that red thing. Wanting it. Its so good, red. But
very, very bad there in the dark corner. Dusty corner. Dirty
corner. All is that in night black-ness. Dark and dirt,
and nothingness. Awful, awful and stinky. Me, when my teeth
bite, I take it in, and then its dirty down there.
Its dirty then. Me.
You.
Bless, bless.
Only
you, and you too beside her. Youre so good. Your hair
beautiful, and I am grabbing it. Your hair is
you
are beautiful. And you standing there beside her. Yes, yes.
Green bird has green hair. Hair feathers. A song happens
when green bird sings. Sometimes too the square light in
the box sings. It talks a lot. I walk to the other room.
She is there. I walk to her. She is soft. Soft voice. Leg
and hand. Only you. And you standing there near her with
deep voice.
They
are strangers. Go away.
They
are outside our room, out there. The bell is ringing. They
come into our room. I watch them, and I watch you, mama,
and you too, papa. Their hair and clothes, their voices
and walking. They eat and laugh. I can laugh. But I do not
laugh in blackness. Screams happen then. It is dirt, then,
and awful, and there is nothing then. Nothing.
Miss Needham is nice. Mr. Arnold is nice. Jill is a girl,
she plays with dolls. They do not eat but they stinky. I
want them.
I
love Nancy Gold. She has reddish brown hair, brown eyes,
and the freckles make her smile very nice. I think I want
to marry her, if she loves, if she loves me. She loves me,
loves me not. Her soft voice. Her legs and hands. When will
I ask, and how? I love Nancy Gold.
netted
fish
quivering on a wet dock
a rainbow flash |
On
the docks edge, we raised the long pole and sunfish
slithered in the net-ting. Flopping, fins snagging in cording,
choking, Jews coughing in the cham-bers, naked guests of
kind Herr Hitler. Maybe I was one of them. Scales plating
my back, sides, legs, arms, stomach, eyes. Convulsions like
orgasms, killing desire. We fried the dressed, whole fish
in a skillet and their eyes popped into nothing. Nothingness.
Like my love of her, and I left then only with desire.
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