Brittany Spaulding | Two Poems

October 31, 2016

Scene Description

Skyline. Dark moon. Blue police cameras. The projects. Roaches and rats. Or residents. Block parties. Or loitering. Gang graffiti. Or neighborhood welcome.

Explosive tempers. Or loose bowels. Counting sheep. Or gunshots. Peeling wallpaper. Shattered car windows. Dilapidated schools. Or futures.

Overcrowded subways. Long walks. Open parks. Or crime scenes. Broken tire swings and monkey bars. Step over beggars. Or cracks in the sidewalk. God bless you anyway. Or Fuck you too. Mouthful. Sunflower seeds. Whiskey breath. Pried-open fire hydrants.

The ^{bodies of children} floating in the water. Or lily pads on a warm summer morning.

***

Home Sweet Hell, or It Goes Down in L-Town

The first week of not being homeless anymore,

I slept atop a pallet of sheets on my wooden floor.

My sister brought home food from canceled

Papa John’s orders.

The neighborhood dogs bark

all night and I can never tell

if it’s because of the wind

or gunshots.

Brittany is a Chicago native, a Chihuahua enthusiast, and yo favorite cousin.