Poem-a-Day

^{c.a. 2021 (modern century)}

Along the butcher paper you’re spread. Licking your fingers. Cracking spines  
(dainty little things). Still, you know to shuck all their meat. Be as Southern  
and slack as he saw fit. And you kept spreading. Your smiles. Your rumor.  
Your circles of darlings, looped & braided your hair. Late skin atmosphere.  
Wet from the heat. New timbres and eves. You loved the hilly tongues of Carolinas.  
The ooze of Baton Rouge. You told jokes in shotgun kitchens. Basked in the Garden  
District. Cocktails under Columns. Humming yourself drunk: like a Louisiana fairytale.  
You debuted so well. Sent boys chirping. City bright & blushing. Blue ghosts circling 
your show and tell cottage. There you hung dead flowers. Fanned and soaked for hours.  
Bronzed legs, the perfect sundress. Oh Nayika! you even served Creole for his guests.  
Bottles and biscuits, king cake and juleps. But darling, what of it? You spread yourself rich.  
Held every court of his. Heard of hidden women. Swore you were different. Roaring feline 
laughter. You’ll plead with him after. For now, set down the flute. Panting to the Bayou,  
pride staggered, dress lifted. Face in the river. You’ll listen under pressure:  
God dammit! God eager! Takes lightning strikes to please. His wanton demands. 
Forget the title Nayika, chosen means damned. Undo the coronet braids, rein back 
what you can. All you’ve mistaken: Territory for home, throat for song, throws for jewels. 
Your type is the wretched. You won’t be defeated. You’ll reap what you choose.   
Faustian bargain. Spiders in your garden. Pulling your ribbons tighter. You say prized  
trumps beloved. So long as you’re coveted. You’ll weather the storm and all that good brew:  
The spines that crack. The bolts that bruise. Rumors coming back to you.