“Dirty Love” by Tami Boehle-Satterfield

murrar
We were low,
Him and me.
Lower than the dusty ash
Spilled on the ground

And on my mama’s shoe.
Acting like a lady,
She fussed at the peculiarity,
Me a dirty smudge on her white skirt.

Oh, we were dirty.
Me and her on a road to disaster,
Like trash blowing,
Circling the grounds of domestic troubles.

She knowed-
I rolled,
Laid in the mud with him-
Lied like the rug he wrapped me up in.

It was a dirty mess.
My head and a horseshoe.
I found it difficult to hit it satisfactorily.
I was out of luck

With him and his dominion over my flesh.
Over my dead body
Raised my babies fat as a pigs on it:
“She never was no good. Done run off like a dog.”

But there’d be no peace. Me, a dog with a bone,
My jaw running, a slow promotion bleached white from the sun
Loosely hinged and chattering
To keep shit from settling in my mouth.

I held it together.
Made my way out.
My bones slipping away from the narrow choices,
A rock and a hard place.

A dog betrayed him.
Sniffed me out like a game of hide and seek
Inside that blanket of love he rolled me up
So as to catch all the gooey love that run out of me.

I finally saw the light of dawn
Clean and white. Ground to dust and ash
I settled down,
Astonished at the difficulty that is my homage.

June 12, 2015

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