Thursday, August 22, 2013
There is an earthquake inside of me
it clots and drops through me
slowly distributing cramps
on the lower side of things.
Long ago I was an egg
now, I make eggs
and break them
with lost appetite
I used to be a girl
with legs that could part wide on any day
jump ropes , kick balls
and have nothing drop out
slowing, gently, making me crazy
counting the days, rolling blood in my palm...
There is an earthquake happening inside of me
and you want me to say hi?
Look, fetch me a towel and wait
Posted by Nana at 9:23 PM
Friday, August 2, 2013
“Remember when we were happy and carefree
and laughed at Eric in class?”
Where did those days go?
or was it us who left?
“We are not laughing enough”
Laughter can hurt
so it doesn't come around if there is already pain
“We started paying rent”
Yes we did and we started measuring our dreams
with our hands
the (wo)man of our dreams had appeared and left and appeared and left and appeared and left and still it wasn't them
we felt our dreams had lied to us
and had the nerve to stay on in our face
telling us that it was our fault
that we didn’t dream new dreams
and when we dreamt new dreams
it was a dream in the old dream
and we cut our hair
and loved it the next day
we confuse our dreams
as our dreams play with our freedom
maybe we stopped laughing because we stopped dreaming
maybe we stopped laughing because we stopped looking for Eric
Posted by Nana at 8:36 PM
Monday, July 22, 2013
this thing we felt,
it was whole
Lover, loved, love
and then you saw questions
that wouldn’t end
it annoyed you,
with my fist in you it was harder to reach you
and you frowned sometimes
spark in my eyes hid
you unlike the others
but like them
came with a lesson
so I sit here calling you
love lover beloved
but my heart has forgotten
how to break
Posted by Nana at 5:56 PM
Thursday, May 2, 2013
It was the line both kindness and idiocy shared—that was what confused our meetings. I took my action for kindness and she saw idiocy, the kind imposed by love. A love that didn’t exist between us, at least not until I said “I could easily love her…” and she told everybody I had said that and in her mind we were in some kind of a relationship already. What she didn’t know was that my ‘idiocy’ extended to everyone else in that same measure. So, I became a flirt and unfaithful in her manic eyes. She needed me to be hers. I cared as deeply for women less beautiful, less educated, and less complicated as she and that offended her. If she could make me crave her and only her, then maybe then will be the time to dump me in our imaginary relationship. It was all confusing, this woman and what she was doing in my life or me in hers.
She complained if I called often, she cried when I didn’t. I was wrong in every action I took, until I decided I would let her have what she wanted but she didn’t want anything from me. That was what she said when I asked her, “nothing.”
“Then you should have no use for me,” I said.
“What do you mean? How about me, don’t you want anything from me? Don’t you want me in your life?”
Before I could finish my sentence, she had grabbed me by the arm and thrown me on her chest. I had no idea, she was that strong. Why did she act so girly for someone bearing such strength? If she could pull me, and I was twice as heavy as her, why did she scream in a high-pitched voice when she saw a wall gecko? Her lips were pressed hard on mine. All adults should have “don’t stop” in their vocabulary and it should belong to the ‘overly used words’ bit of the vocabulary. That was what I was thinking but,
“stop, what are you doing?!”
Is what came out of my mouth instead, I know I am such a jellyfish. The good thing is that she didn't stop.
She tried to push me on her couch but she missed. My ass hit hard on the floor before my head did. The sound of my head crashing to her tiled living room floor must have echoed in the neighbor’s flat. She pounced on me with a giggle and tore my shirt open.
“I’ll fuck you and make you mine.” She said.
I was in some sort of a twilight zone at that point; her voice sounded ten blocks away. I could feel the moist from the back of my head. I knew I had cut my skin, I could smell blood. I finally lifted my hand to touch hers on my chest and that is all I can remember.
According to her, everything I have just told you is made up. She didn't kiss me, ‘she would never do that without my permission’. She couldn't push me to the ground, where was she going to get that kind of strength from?
I had come to her flat with milk she had requested for. I had brought one for myself and was drinking from the bottle when I got there. I spilled my milk and in rush to get a mob, I slipped and fell. That was her story.
Maybe the fall has affected the way my memory, she said. I knew she was lying but it was my word against hers, right? And I had no plans of telling anybody anyway, especially my girlfriend. I had promised my girlfriend I was never going to see this woman anymore. So why was I sending her milk? If I wasn't sending her milk as I remember of what happened, what was I doing there?
She was sitting by my bedside holding my hands. Her’s were sweaty. I asked her to go, she said she wouldn't go. My girlfriend had called that she was on her way over. We needed a good story to tell before she got here.
“I got a phone call from you, your stomach was upset and you were dehydrated. You asked me to get you pills from the pharmacy. When I got to you house, you had puked all over, I didn't see it, I slipped and fell, hitting my head hard to the ground.”
“But that’s not true,” she said.
“Nobody knows the truth. That is what we are going to say.”
"Is your girlfriend an idiot? She will know I haven’t been sick, look at me, do I look sick to you?"
"Do you have a better suggestion?" I asked taking my hand from her sweaty hands.
"Why don’t you just tell her the truth?"
"What truth? I am lactose intolerant; I don’t take milk. I will not be caught drinking milk especially in the afternoon. We both know your story is fiction."
“Baby, are you okay?” My girlfriend walks in and hugs me on the hospital bed.
“oh my god I was so worried when you weren't picking up my calls, are you okay, are you going to be okay, what happened?” she hadn't yet said a word to her.
“I slipped and broke a little skin at the back of my head, nothing to worry about.”
“Oh my god where?”
“the back of my head”
“no, I mean where did you slip?”
“Oh by the road side, I was buying phone credit and she called me, pointing at the unwanted guest in the room, I was trying to jump the gutter to say hello to her at the other side of the road and I slipped on a pure water sachet.
“Aw, my poor baby, I am so sorry, what are the doctors saying?”
"I lost a little blood but I’ll live."
“Hi, thanks for being here for us, but you can go now, I’m sure you would like to rest” she finally spoke to the other human being in the room.
“You don’t have to say thanks, it was my fault in a way, if I didn't ask for the milk… I mean the phone credit, there would have been no falling into the gutter”
“Baby, you fell into a gutter?”
“No, yes, I mean I don’t remember”
“oh my poor baby, are you hurt anywhere else apart from your head?”
“yeah, I hit my ass hard on the tile”
“I mean the tarred road, I am a bit confused about the whole thing now, my love, I am not sure exactly what happened I am just happy you are here.”
“I know” she leaned in a kissed me.
She tried to button up my shirt but there were no buttons left on to work with.
“what happened to your shirt?”
I looked at her and she looked at her.
We knew she knew.
Posted by Nana at 1:12 PM
Monday, April 29, 2013
The brave face
I wear is never washed
It stinks with sweat
my mother’s and mine
She taught me how to put it on
to fit my wobbly bones
to be the face that you would know
My brave face
has a smile
it lasts for thirty seconds
and plays back after a minute
My brave face
belongs to my family
I owe it to them
and to my children
the ones I planned to have with you
But you think I do not feel
You should see my eyes buttoned on
my brave face
my brows frown like a powerless child
to remind you that
I am tough
I can show you my face now
how it’s stained with blood
And you would realize
my brave face is what you want to love
Posted by Nana at 1:54 AM
Wednesday, March 27, 2013
The thing that sets me free is caged
covered with skin and breastbone
The thing that sets me free is sore
overworked, stretched beyond today
and when it beats I feel the past
and when I sleep it runs without me
My heart won’t stop
Going places without my charge
Tattooing names in her pulse
Controlling my mind
Moving my feet
Showing me smiles in the face of pain
My heart is sore and I can’t touch it,
maybe you should.
Posted by Nana at 11:32 PM