Marlene Effiwatt
delighted by the absence
of sea-glass cars parked
on our rock lot the whole house
to myself I am dark not
my poems and still no one asked
seems to know what it means to crave
egg yolks
the word “poem” is short for “pomegranate,”
but I hadn’t thought of that line the first
time I saw you
and the first time I saw you
you sat neck-bent under a spotlight,
the circumference of my skirt’s hem
for a year my sister went by
“megawatt,” our last name is voltage
there is a whole anthology on “Frankenstein’s
Monster: the OG Mulatto”
you can read about his dad, a white man
fascinated with scraps
his dad, he had the chills but I thought
he should just zap the wife already
