MAMA SAYS TO ALWAYS LEAVE HOME WEARING CLEAN UNDERWEAR| Daschielle Louis explores the fragmented memories of a young woman.
by Daschielle Louis
good girl hides mud good girl hides unmelting cheese between fingers and exits the back door back when mama’s back was flexible back to school with another box of crayons color picture girl colored in textbooks in photographs they hung your daddy and ate the fruit they hung her daddy and drank the blood drinks 2-4-1 at el patron step over dead body shot shots shot down shots shots to chest in throat out back between fingers the bullet holes pass the tequila passes like urine the neighbors dog eats through the holes through the meat through the blood on the back porch the neighbor asks if the possum in their yard belonged to you you possum you digging in the empty pool to find china to buy back the tea cup you broke when the mud made it slip broke the dial on the telephone so you would never have to call 911 call 911 call for help because grandma isn’t breathing grandma isn’t here for them anymore the kids with the holes in their backs with the breathing leaving their backs call for yahweh to stop the pain eating at her gums pray for snowfall pray for bluffs pain in watching there’s pain in the dogs crying for more hole cheese for mama crying for grandma crying to mud covered over body with hole in breasts holes for grandma holes for good girl get inside car get inside with him friend no dad trusts no one no air in car will make good girl come in melting blood to the sidewalk walk until back ache good girl covered in mud mud girl covered in good mama reminds me that the food i give the dogs is food they will never return.
Daschielle Louis is a Haitian American poet, writer, and graphic artist from South Florida: her work uses magical realism to examine blackness, womanhood, Haitian culture and migration. Her literary work is housed on her website daschiellelouis.com.