Sentiments in Raw Heat by Tyurina Allen

You stand still, the pom pom of a world.
It’s revolver voices loom over the budding announcements,
Like black morning coffee.

It exclaims nothing of my true disability.
The New York birth to the foreign parentage.
Whispering voices: “are you transparent?”
No, I was always a Swiss wrapped doll.

Loomed up in my own white cotton.
Smiles twisting like dead white coils.
I slept in that bed all night.

The water glass treated me like a revival.
It stood on my nightstand, the onlookers
Treated me as if I was already playing in the 2000 Olympics.
Adolescent hopscotch.

Dreaming, your homeland wisdom is only temporary.
Americanized, Love wraps around you like a great coil
With the fit of a snake,

You are all one on one.
The constantants laugh: they know no different.
The refinery smell taught them all,
Like mothers they alphabetize the brand names.

Counting by letters you are not simple,
The name of Plato rings in your head like normalcy.
Normalcy is my everyday rubber wagon.
Separate I know nothing of the golden spoon.

They slid past me like 1920 orphans.
Time is exclusive, I wear it like furs.
The Jeweler is my mother.

Her goodness lost me years ago,
Being lost I know I am all right.
Almond goodness and silver paper wrapped through.
You shall know nothing of me in millions.