INSIDIOUS
Patrick Wilson’s ass. American angelic. In memory of Patrick Wilson’s
hairline. In any hot dad is the hand of an old man who wants me dead. Every
other brand of old man in America is left for dead but the mad ones. The state
of Florida doesn’t just happen. In the years shortly before I let future Trump
voters fuck, I barely know my father & am sniffing his boxers. The camera
moves like eyes behind me in a room. The Further is all of my secrets
animated in simultaneity. Or the Further is one decade of extrajudicial
murders concurring. With the lights out, I feel dangerous but less stupid. In a
dream, my dead grandfather returns in need of a nap & promptly melts into a
hot dad hookup the second he hits my sheets. The walls start leaking sewage &
my apartment falls apart. Even my dead grandfather is tired of the bullshit I
make my bed. The ruby door in the dark belongs to an F150 in a field in
December where a volunteer fireman raw-dogs me at fourteen. Fogged
mirrors lose grip on a spitless moon. A closeted father & a lynching victim
hover; only one vies for my body. My libido a denial I deny y’all. I’m not
Ruby, I could never turn into Rose Byrne: I know all demons moonlight as my
husbands & like it that way. By demons, I mean ways I’m wedded to
convenience, surveillance, & pleasures that enslave. How can it be quiet
enough to hear disappeared children? The ghosts are contagious & immune to
migration. Entertain us with the sounding haunts of fathers fucking. Instead of
therapy, the AME church & lay hands on me, father god. With my father’s fist
in my chest & my brother’s neck in my fists, I don’t turn blue in any light. I
also keep violets, beau regards, & mean reds: “it’s not your house that’s
haunted, it’s your son.” It’s not my country, it’s my brain on my country. Your
son is lost in a house so large there’s someone in the baby’s room before the
security system squeals. Your son is lost in a system of kennels belonging to
homeland security. The Further is the formative years of simultaneous animals
we keep raising for a future we can’t afford to survive. I had to die to escape
the state of Florida one time. In a decade, there were sequels for each finger
you could slip in me & no escape.
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