Don't Ask
my popo says don’t ask popo says a man she thought was Jesus told her the meaning of life at the bus stop shelter wall busted nubby bits of glass all around he punch-marked her ticket and said god surely loves you too what did he mean popo? she said, don’t you know by now baby she said, your sort — my sort our sort we don’t ask they don’t tell you just know and he told me god surely loves me too what he meant was what she thought he meant was all the no good men the no good luck the nobody ever done right by her life the mis-car-bortion he never told-a-bout but he knew the poor baby eyes all open fresh bloom she was married at sixteen it was the war they sent the girls little girls little women to homes in town away away kept away from the jungle fighters the ones left behind breast legs wide open don’t ask and they won’t tell she was sent away she said, last lucky thing to ever happen to her from between her legs spilling fresh blooms what to do with all the blooms do she do with all these red red blooms don’t ask they won’t tell stanch the children stanch all the children a girl a girl a girl a boy a girl a pig a horse a donkey a prince an ox my mama says don’t ask mama says a man she thought was Jesus told her the meaning of life at the bus stop shelter walls busted twisted metal all around he scanned the barcode on her ticket and said god surely loves you too what did he mean mama? she said, don’t you know by now baby she said, your sort — my sort our sort we don’t ask they don’t tell we just get on with it and he told me god surely loves me too us chew the table scraps cause our jaws tougher kind us don’t go past high school kind us send money to send our brothers to college kind did you know god was an architect? mama wanted to be an architect too make forests — skyscrapers but not women’s bodies’ breast legs wide open designed for what? we don’t ask they don’t tell our sort gets on with it and god surely loves us too i became the kind of architect mama said to be i say — i don’t ask — i say when is it my turn? they say oooooooh so you’re god’s gift to the industry now but all i was asking for was what the boy the boy the boy the boy already had don’t ask mama says don’t ask popo says they’re poaching eggs in the lunch-room turning tea into roses they say don’t get too big for your britches now they say you get called up when they want you now they say don’t you know by now baby we don’t ask they don’t tell now go back to the end of the line