GINA GOLDBLATT – Oakland – 2020

My body (which knows better) tells me it’s 6am

The clock insists, 7am


Anxiety fills my limbs, my contracted neck muscles, the concave chest that cradles what I always imagine is not a human heart behind rib bones, but a citris one


I imagine the sayings I might say, if I went mad

Things I’d blurt out in public

Citrus heart ripped open by iron teeth

Why they are iron, I am unsure

so – and -so, all the way from Coney Island!

Traveled far to escape the sideshow!


The stories I read seep in

The stories I ravel in fragments come together

The stories they told me heavy hold me like a thumb pushed up against  the surfaces we are advised not to make contact with for fear of contamination

Those about who I am, should be


The pull of east coast time

The sanctions of an unwell m—


Dogs, dogs, dogs

Little dog

Big dog

3-legged dog, deaf dog, onehundredandfifteenpound dog, leaping dog, tiny, irreverent dogs

Home to my little boy with the eyes of a Foo Dog and a pig tail; the designer mutt


Reminder: it’s the last day for priority registration

Reminder: you cant afford a fucking house

Reminder: you are invited to the cliterary salon

Reminder: this event is cancelled due to Coronavirus

Reminder: the ship has docked at Oakland that left out of San Francisco

Reminder: Your rent is going up

Reminder: The man on the corner staring at your ass will tell you to suck his dick when you give him the finger. Tell him to suck his own dick.

Reminder: we are living through the pushback

Reminder: Poetry in groups, heals


End the night with Noodle Theory and a compassionate friend

Ask for what you want, warm curried broth

Get what you desire, equal interaction