sobriety breeds insomnia
breeds my sunday
night-at my home, it’s mother’s
day-I bought the succulent near the horse farm, the card
in walgreens, I posted on facebook with 3
remains. it comes from the mother-
yours was a lion actress, she took men in
her mouth on acid while
you ate tv dinners nearby, I remember
her in the mall-every step a broken step- her mother
GG. seventy years old bail bondsman in Florida-
the prisoners loved her- she had dinners
with everyone, you mentioned the drugs, guns, the transgender
woman, that guy Nicky had a knife.
and your father’s mother- they called her red,
she lied about her birthday, her clothes neatly
pressed- no one ever spoke
of her son that passed-
on the upper
west side- fine china, two maids-
one nanny. when the stocks
crashed- he blanked himself-
we never speak of what
in my womb.
Jess Kangas is a strawberry siren poet located in Buffalo, NY. Her poetry is rich in sound, structure and secrets.
Photograph by Steve Snodgrass.