Jenne Micale

GARDEN STATE

arms of walls enfold me.  new jersey
takes me into her withered breast
	my syphilitic queen of hairspray and highways.

new jersey, i am your human incarnation.
barbed temper and electric razor tongue.
turnpikes jingle dancing anklets
	and the parkway my jasper necklace.

sands of my body ebb at the prodding
of the tantrum sea.  more and more
gives way each day as gulls howl comedy
with their harlequin heads.

			  new jersey-
you hating whore of new york.  you let
them plough your grassy curves so they
could traffic you in swarms.  maggots
worming their way to new york or
boston or philadelphia.  beaten whore
with blackened eyes from factory fists.
you let them with hands beneath your 
sitting ass.  you don't even make fists
anymore.
	your bitter vitriol oozes from
your lips.  you smack your children in public toilets
and lash them with your bullwhip tongue.
	new jersey, i am you.

		i am you and i want to go, 
new jersey.  i've seen horizons.  but you grab
my garters with desperate press-on nails
painted corvette red and whine, no-
i am the only one who ever understood-
must you leave me too?

			new jersey
i am you.  i loathe you and i loathe
myself like roadkill deer left on I-80
for a week.  what evil bitches we are,
my sweet.  i must run from you as i
run from myself and you follow me,
you whore, as my self.
		underneath the mattress
i hide the crumpled dollars to pay
the abortionist.  i shall unshackle our
souls my whore my queen and
we shall rise to the ozone sky.
Copyright CrossConnect, Inc. 1996


[ CONTENTS | X COVER | MAIL | NEXT ]