TWEETS TO KEEP 2019

Beginning: Attendants satiate her lust & dance to her tune, but they all die badly.

Middle: Bereft, she scours the land for the milk of human kindness & locates it in a quaint village.

End: She drinks her fill of stolen milk, only to be killed by kindness.

*

The dying bard drinks up the yesteryear captured in his own words. The dragons’ beginning beyond the moon; their doughty enemy, the knights; & their enemy, witches shape-shifted to damsels. O, for holy grails & magical elixirs & one more word.

*

(55) The cage is innocent, an apparatus of persuasion that tells our stories. I remember how they hoisted me nearer the summer sun which seared my flesh with long red burns & later fed me to the frost which bit off my toes. I capitulated. I’m a persuader now.

*

After the arrest of Anderson & presumably her father, Carys fulfilled her mom’s promise to donate the O’Keefe to the museum. The dining room looked bleak; nothing new could match O’Keefe’s color, her seasoning of their every meal eaten together. CHEVROLET

*

Slap/Slap. Dad’s shoes eating up the stairs. Huddled under the desk, she whimpered. Why was he doing this to her? Her head was splitting apart, her jaw throbbed. Slap/Slap. She’d barf on him if–His hand gripped her ankle. ‘Time to go, baby. I promise you’ll get novacaine.’

*

After I came along, Mom created a gilded cage, & I mean 24-carat gold, so Tansy & I turned out pampered muckety-mucks. But w/ heart. Mom slaved at work, despite her inheritance, but our insouciant aura was a con. All those years, we allowed nobody in. CHEVROLET

*

Carys used to get to her knees to scrub floors w/ an actual brush, her mom’s ploy to instill adult virtues that Carys’ inner wild child had ignored. That strictness, what little Mom exerted, had just the right kick, like salt in dark chocolate. CHEVROLET

*

The homies at basketball on the rec center court cussed & grandstanded like winning was the point, & on the far side of the cyclone fence I was on a swing, feet up, hair sweeping the asphalt as I wrote a poem. About us & our fair share of euphoria. Soon, Mr. Clarion and his pretty daughter would be gone and my hope of their patronage grounded on the shoals.

*

Sun high & blinding, she wiped sleep from her eyes & wondered where Ben was. They needed to talk about their spat & her dream of him far away & grotesquely broken. They’d ridden out last night to see the gorge in moonlight. Only her bike in the carport …

*

He sips his mint tea, eyes sliding anywhere but my way. I tamp down a nauseating adrenaline rush. God, I want to get out of his place. I hurt everywhere but need a sign that I screwed up, that love isn’t the sick con job I suspect it is. CHEVROLET.

*

Kid Return Day, Fiona waits her turn, nibbling on tipsy cake Stork Delivery set out. Her twins gambol about like baby goats. They’re a nightmare to herd & feed given their 4 legs & 2 arms. Stork quality control sucks, but she can swap the tots for guppies.

*

With hard-ons for bikes, me & Joe boosted a beaut. He rode fast, flipping off stops & lights, a cool rush ’til we skidded into disaster. Me, right thru an open window to land in chocolate cake. Joe outside, smashed worse than the cake.

*

Just graduated from Wizard Comedy U, Dads acts chef & invites the neighbors. He doesn’t coax, they grab for the hexed hors d’oevres: blackened pigeon legs, toadskin dumplings & dried forget-me-not on roach wing. I crack up when the barfing commences.

*

Mom was no Cordon Bleu chef but her gourmet food business kept Tansy and me in princess splendor. We vacationed in places teeming with celebrities & graduated from Ivy League schools. So why did we drift in fitful winds when Mom had shown us how to fly? CHEVROLET

*

It struck her later how she’d drunk the honey in Rand’s voice long before he stopped her for dangerous driving, whatever. First time was in the cafe. She’d been incognito, posing as a vintage actress in Mom’s fur, wanting information w/ her coffee. CHEVROLET

*

My limbs robbed of strength & robe bloody, I dropped to a stump & posed my chin on my palms to consider Evangeline’s economy of love. Davy had the greater part, and my portion was but fair words. I felt old & wise, my mind a deck swept clear of foolish fantasy. MAGICAL WINDS

*

My ghost follows me everywhere. Does it want me dead again or, worse, dead forever? Except for that bone-ghoul, I love this life of sin under the dark smiles of stars. I snag a priest, confess to nothing, & demand a ghost-busting.

*

He takes his sanity pill, glad for its lifting of his blood lust, tho it’s not 100% effective. Again & again, he abducts a nanny from the park, takes her home, hands her a chicken & an ax, and demands soup from scratch. Gore & glory for his mama’s boy soul.

*

She’d been a working girl 10 years & it was the 1st time a john pressured her to shave her legs & pits in the shower. Odds were, a hobbyist w/ a signature. The best tool to hand was the razor. Things got weird, pressure to an artery & bingo. UNIDENTIFIED

*

A rolling slope in Gettysburg, leaves of greenest grass interwoven with velveteen violets, as if the chaos of war & the freeze of a northern winter can be landscaped into our history on the broken bones of our unnatural humanity.

*

It’s a classic Jag w/ palomino paint-job & bandit headlights & he calls his ‘horse’ Hi-Ho-Silver. Cops indulge him, a quiet vigilante down on petty theft & dog-fight pet rustling. Always rides into the sunset on a full tank. Then the hit & run, hoof-prints on the corpse.

*

I played whore w/ Heston half the night & he signed his smart-car over to me, a merry-go-round of mutual perks. I left at 3; had to walk a dog. Expected a call-back, but it turned out he was only Heston’s body double. I’d’ve put that bullet thru his head if I’d known. SUZY BEEZER