Desireé Panda and the Lee Van Cleefs
A murder dinner for beckoning. Let’s have a grave way with phonics. Let’s tangle bright inside one another. Holding forks, holding knives.
Come out from behind my mother’s skirts. Take a bow between us. We’ll hold hands like she’s not even there. Like how she’s never been there. Be my kind. Be what I have been.
Have you versed before?
Have you come inside someone you wanted to become?
In a special way, you have visited me; an errant balloon, a dusty seascape, a scraped knee with edible scab. I have yearned to taste your footskin, too full on my own. Let’s rub each other’s heads in the dark. Let’s torture a young boy together. You go first, and then I will go first.
In a leftover summer dark where I don’t matter, you will get mud-wet with drown. I will take my feather petticoats into the depths for you. I will scoop you with my arms. I will embrace your travesty, lay you before your mother, kiss your gloated, dead mouth barfing fish.
Let’s all be horrified.
And when Franklin can’t get out of his wheelchair. When Franklin screams himself down the hill with his piss can. When he won’t relinquish his flashlight and you have no choice but to push him through the dirt in the dark. Be sure to show him your magnificent sister tits, your round ass juicy-elevating those white pants to miracle level. Because Franklin is going to die in the next 10 minutes, and I know he more than brother-loves you. He always has.
Let It Be is not just a song by The Beatles.
Let’s take a minute to reflect upon who we are. Sit. Breathe in all of the things you need to. Never mind there are couches. Never mind the reflecting letters, how the walls sulfur and blow. Pay no mind to the way your little sister cried under the slaps of your father’s belt circa 1987 while you hid in the bathtub, head between your knees, rocking like a retard. Just breathe and let it all fill in the chinks where the light comes in, disrupting everything you were meant to be. Breathe and wait. When nothing happens, when no answers come and you don’t feel a bit of difference, you are done. Tell the polar bear to leave. Kick his flabby ass on his way out the door. Say, “That’s right you fuck,” and don’t even bother slamming anything, polar bears can’t hear worth a shit. Instead, think about fingering the girl at work you hate so very much. Think about feeding her her own cunt slick while you half choke her out MMA style, your erection burning a hole in your fist. Then, once you come down from that high, call me. On my cell, not my house phone, I don’t answer that shit. I’ll lie on my back and listen to everything you have to say. I promise. If you need me to talk back, I will, just don’t ask me to come over, there’s not one part of me that ever wants to see your face.
sticking fingers in. all my girl places. today.
Uh oh. Someone is out of line. Look at the way things are tripling.
I spread my legs and the dog went in there. A vicious way he went against the parts of me inappropriate. I am so drunk I can’t even open my eyes. Take your male hands and shun the dog that looks for honey between my legs. Tell him he is a bad boy. Call him over prompt him. Nothing is as even as a living room floor, dark with the nothing that gives permission to all things that will send you to hell.
I say, “Yes. Lick there.” But that’s not what i say. I slap my thigh. Slap my thigh. Slap my thigh. It’s a thing you do to get a dog to do that thing it wants to do.
Slap my thigh.
Hysterical you think bad things about me. All I am doing is listening to neutral milk hotel oh comely and laughing at your fucking pock marked face. nothing can heal a handicapped black girl who has no other options except how many pounds her family can carry.
This song is the best I can ever be.
Honey all over the carpeting.
I think your hands are everything I want them to be. Hold on and twist. I will kiss you until you tell me to stop. I know your breath will be everything I ever wanted. Skin against skin. Take your time
Take your time.