May, 2008


size 7

– brianprince

i’m ten years old.
and i’m just a bigger version
of my boys. who are eight and four.

we’re always hiding from mom.
when we do things wrong. and
making trouble. when she’s not looking.

we play steamroller over each other’s
bodies on the bed. crush pillows and blankets
making all stuffed animals dead.

we’re boys. we close the door. and shut
off all the lights. except for the
P • I • X • A • R style lamp on the nightstand.

and shine it on the wall behind our
hands. to create a new world. the
land of rebellious shadow puppets.

fighting. because we crave destruction.
war. rage. seeing things fall apart.
we’re evil. no matter what age.

whispering. telling secrets. but constantly
we’re loving and picking roses to
give her. as we still beg from her.

permission. to do anything.
asking to be excused from every
meal. respecting her as the only girl.

we really want to do good. we do.
my eleventh birthday is real soon,
and i can’t promise to grow up

because i can’t seem to fit
into the woman’s size 7
pants of the household.

dessert first

– brianprince

i was raised to
see a priest in order
to speak with God.

i was raised to
not drink before a
meal. not even water.

i was raised to
follow my mind because
the heart doesn’t make money.

i was raised to
respect woman. but all that
leaves me is too much pussy.

i’m now inclined to
forward the FedEx’d pussy
that lies on my doorstep.

to the priest who needs
it attached with a note that reads
who says the water is holy.

retire my mind. speak to
God with my heart. and
eat dessert first.

mama’s voice

– brianprince