{"id":1570,"date":"2012-04-13T21:40:15","date_gmt":"2012-04-13T21:40:15","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/?page_id=1570"},"modified":"2012-04-14T17:15:53","modified_gmt":"2012-04-14T17:15:53","slug":"deana-prock-0412","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.fullofcrow.com\/poetry\/archives\/deana-prock-0412\/","title":{"rendered":"Deana Prock, 04\/12"},"content":{"rendered":"

END SCENE<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

You lie there knowing
\nyou made this bed,
\nand it is yours and no one else\u2019s.
\nIsn\u2019t that what your mother always
\ntold you?
\nWell that, and always wear clean
\nunderwear, which is just laughable
\nunder the circumstances.
\nYou tried to explain it all to her once-
\nyour sad, disapproving mother.
\nBut words have an inadequacy with her.
\nNothing penetrates.
\nHow do you describe that at first
\nit was just a game- a warm place to hide
\nand reminiscent of the
\nsalty sweet smell of her breasts-
\nheavy with milk and repression.
\nThat\u2019s what your psych said anyway.
\nThe third one she sent you too- the one
\nthat smelled like garlic and said maybe
\nyou really wanted to be a boy. What
\nyou really wanted was to tell her how
\nthey live to put it in your mouth
\nand lean on the trigger.
\nThey always want to know
\nwhat you are made of-
\ncurious to see if you will blink-
\nor just close your eyes. Or maybe cry,
\neven if just a little.
\nLast night, you just held your hands up-
\nsignaling surrender.
\nOh! How they love surrender- and of course
\neveryone knows you hide a little white flag
\nin your purse.
\nAfter, you waited around
\nfor cab fare and called it a night,
\ncrawling into that bed you make and unmake.
\nMaybe, you spend too much time in solitary-
\nstaging your scene and
\nwondering if they should find you
\non the couch
\non the floor
\non the bed.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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