Photo of a Girl, 1992: Gremlins

Where I first learned to collect dirt—the graveyard

surging with the effigies of women forgotten or drowned

by the strange tide of hours flooding their small & empty

beds; blistered with the ghosts of their men trapezing

through the yard in the shoulders of their children; where

the army wives were hungry for large & hard

harbors or homes with cornerstones—anything permanent;

where Momma leaned against the double wide &  S -posed

Her back; where chain-linked to Her homegirls, She posted up

against the slim carcass of the trailer, She roach-smoked

while She was out getting Her babies baptized

in North Carolina’s largest pool of spousal ejection: Ft. Bragg;

where scoops of women cocked back their glorious rounds

& checked their spines in a honeycomb of fatigued men;

where us grassy kids trained muddy snapping turtles

to be combat ready, chucking grenade-shaped pinecones

over concrete lots & touching each other under our houses.

Back when I never knew what sort of work my Ma did

but I did know that whatever it was required She unzip Her skin

at the end of the day & paw a Kool cigarette between

the chips of Her fingers to let steam run through Her dank lips,

up & out into the façade of a clear blue sky; when She was shady,

just like the panther stalking up the plank of  Her calf & digging

into Her plump waist; when I learned to say daddy whenever

She said daddy, when his face switched texture & tone—

depending on the shape of the moon; when I learned

it was only a phase, listening to the shallow waves tapping

against Her bedroom door whenever my father finally found

his keys; whenever my Momma remembered what love tasted like

when it wasn’t salted with the solitary years of being a war’s wife;

back when my Momma said I was too young to recognize  danger

when  danger  followed; when I climbed onto the couch

& tried to revive Her late in the morning or tried to catfish her animal

onto a paper plate or into a bowl or something, cause we were hungry;

when  danger  fed my sisters & I: Coco Puffs & baloney sandwiches

& count down to the days—dammit—until we finally got up out Her

house & went on & raised up little gremlins of our own.