Warriors

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for my Charlotte and Mr. Frayud

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W A R R I O R S

Neila Mezynski

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Copyright Š 2014 by Neila Mezynski All Rights Reserved

ISBN: 978-1-937739-41-6 Published by Deadly Chaps New York, NY 2014 DCs4NM|2| Cover & Book Design by Joseph A. W. Quintela http://www.deadlychaps.com iv


C O N T E N T S Warriors

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Burning Bridges Behind In Front

X

House She Built`

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Warriors II

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Warriors III

XXIII

Warriors IV

XXVIII

Diary of Mad Girls

XXXI

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W A R R I O R S

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Lipstick I. Her hand, her throat. They might not think see under the light bulb in the middle of the room harsh harsh sweet Charlotte, Blanche, her. Hide. No kindness there or stranger, her. She said there is no peace up there out front. Forget. She can put her forehead on the note/sound sweet. True. Forget lipstick throat them him, you can make the sound with notes and words. She’ll do it right and have some peace in the forgetting in the no peaceful place of becoming. II. Better kinder, not the one when you had just reapplied the red stuff, blindingly good fresh and forgetful, unkind window, no red, only, remember. Fluttering eyes pass by. Up and down. Remember. Put the lid on you she demon. As long as juice is there. Red. III. Skirt pressed stocking too straight thinking just right. Someone will notice she has everything the way they want nothing out of place. Give me. She has. Only. Earring on before breakfast. She looks good if you drop in unexpected. Always. They say nice things pay compliments on time every right time she needs it always, front room down the street the kitchen, lettuce bean carrot store. Aisle. In the. Notice. Her. Dream. Hold tight. They smell the need smell won’t give it, specially then, hold nice tight vii


to their chest. Don’t. Won’t. Rigid. Tight. Lip. Crease. Cozy evening, ship. Left. Better go to choir practice where she opens mouth burst heart forth with cleansing healing song down near socks. Peace and joy. Remember. Try. Lipstick on, no need for reapply, if you are real good, pretend. IV. Radiance. Look. See. No sweat or shine or unappetizing smell coming through those pearly pits, unfulfilled flesh on a evil hot summer night the house fill with childish men running through the length chasing her in short shorts while other her busy keeping it going, cheery banter, kitchen chili crowd, enthralled with others who don’t spend their lives chasing numbers them unwilling into square holes. When their bodies woke up to the smell of powder lipstick and combed hair in front of their eye nose they were an unrestrainable lot. Playing piano pushing each other off of seat to get next to short shorts. He said no thank you, the unreachable one she want, he like small one better. If only she had.

Charlotte of the Ruins Open chest burst forth. Sing fresh whole sweet. Fill ‘er up. Snake sidewind into her house hid back there behind box of don’t forget 'til she remember. Scream when she do. Get out. Stay sit, sit stay, me he. Quiet. Swallow. Him. Lipstick earrings straight seams, only outside, No one home. Inside. Quiet now. Seep. Ooze. Cram. viii


Even If Says he’s already married without so much as a phone call to buy flowers and pretend smiles she didn’t even then go retouch Cherry Red even then when her eyes drip down her face on fresh apply powder she didn’t when he was at the front door that autumn evening stars out gentle pretty, she had already gone to play in the black velvet magic even then when he said he’ll live, no kids a blessing, she didn’t reapply. Progress.

Even When He came to sit hold hands stare deep into eyes manifest wide wondering what she look like, Sarah B. did a pretty good mad scene, she could try, Cherry Red beckons. Hard to talk without. On and on about different stage of grief, she nods. In the sacred moment of grief struck neighbors in living room all dress up no one looking really except him who left for good, up above she hopes. He would understand, her time traveler, but probably not this new one. Sitting staring disbelief. Not care. Enough. Sorry. Pretend. She held his head and said don’t be afraid but he was and he did, leave. Even. Look good on the outside. Matters. No one home, inside.

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B U R N I N G

B R I D G E S F R O N T

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B E H I N D

I N


Magic His Valentino good looks, able to find each other fast in the little brick house where the babies come. Green suit sparkle buttons red hair bun. Tight. Sit at her feet beside new pinkly one. Don’t touch. One by one. Follow him down the path don’t get lost in the air when he throw you over head, might not get down. Miss all the fun of finding it.

Bejeweled Some spectacular stroke of luck, not knowing, don’t have to where what for how the washer machine or matching dryer work, she will do it, other she, will. Her carefully applied lipstick and other unworldly things she puts on her face hair all day in time for the magic of yes he called, to hide the not caring of who cares, knowing she will, do it. All.

Bad Driving Two long talls, one trouble. Don’t have time for open chest burst forth. Put those singing demons to work dusting cleaning chopping mopping, don’t have time to make trouble for too much heart sing miss. All day keep them out of the clutches of success. Talls. Too easy to xi


go the straight and narrow much better to do it the long wrong way. Plenty of woebegone then. Big defeat.

Towering Inferno Stay out of there or get eaten alive, have your head remove at least, like when she said mother hen don’t pay her bills on time when she was only 10, suggestible, easy, tears, she come running back with eyes dripping nose wailing, bared. Owner of the head removal group: you stay here- she stalk into that studio where her precious twinkle toes march right up to that front desk took hold that frilly blouse on peroxide head snap back said come with me. She certainly did smoothing that frousy hair as she run behind mother hen. Apologize. Now. She did. More ways to forget chest bursting sweet.

Cornered in Pink One time too many. Snap. Off like a shot from hell in the dark chase the foul mouth baby humiliater terminator her a thing or two through the prickly pear Sahara breathing fiery dragon pit from hell running all over the nowhere to go desert of frustration and end back in the room of pink upheaval and pubescent devil worship. Age 13, prickly wonder dreams and bring the tweezers. Hurry.

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Child-Like To stand hold hands maybe a quick peck on the cheek no one knew what else next but there in the small cramped spot of heaven, listen to what next in midst of coats hats musky umbrella, smell, wet, no one knew what else, next. Closet dream.

Heartbreak Cake He didn’t call when she wanted it, not behave how when she wanted it. Froze out there on the way to him, care not a fig, only a birthday cake from them who did. Run out fast as she can don’t look at their face stay moving when and until he would. Call. If. A long wait when she could have eaten cake with them who did. Care. Had it too. Cake. Buttercream.

Mama Bear Without Being out in the cold cruel world at least a week, the new unavoidable marriage. Should have stayed toughed it out, took a break instead like all children do when the going gets going, they go, look forward to resting her head on the Mama breast of all’s well when take care. Of. Cornered in the kitchen they struck, the visitor vipers who knew best, specially his kind, had it out with the new married baby, nasty charges, tears, mama in a second xiii


(New York probably, Alabama too slow), thrown out on their visiting best intention trouble making butt, don’t come back. Upset baby. Shoo.

Even Then She come home on the bus in her mini belly bottom big knowing who’s in there, tears choking her mouth. Nice trip. Her confidence in being a person with an idea who did the wash dry cycle, dishes in the lettuce carrot onion aisle, who cared, who waited in her own chest missing the burst forth of sweetness from her throat. Find it. Get her some. Practice.

Mountains to Mount No easy task hidden in that tiny hole wedged. Airless. No return only one way out. Sorry. Words that cut off your air supply make your throat swell lips tingle with unapprehended indignity awash of get ready here it comes. Ease up top where the fresh is, new think air, out of tired brain stodge locked in place for years. Her on the sofa with blazing eyes ready for I’m leaving now while she's approaching the stairway of no return. Come back. Sit back down beside the disbelieving one and resume them that triggered the dive into smell de-feet.

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Independence Day The big city in search of real with a little magic mixed in. State in mind that magic thing. She still don’t know where washer/dryer how why when where, but she’s ready. Lipstick only once. Try.

Well-Wisher Sat by her bed all day no one else twisting eyes hands nails. Can’t wait to get out, she stayed. No polite no pretend no lipstick just stayed, once is all you need. Near, next, right. No one else. Her. Indisputable. Unwavering. Wait for the phone call that didn’t ever come. Forget. Please. Stay in seat unmoving from chair as close as she could get without climbing up there beside her which she did when no one looked except the other way. Hold on. Her relieved belly being there when they said she didn’t, care, other one knew not true. Gibraltar.

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H O U S E

S H E

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B U I L T


Stick They break, she didn’t in the face of, they burn she did plenty of see the red hair bad luck back, stay up off the ground if you can on both feet, they’ll huff and puff, blow away or wish they did, wound as tight as her braids she did by hand by her. Hands. Brittle. Careful.

Stone Knock some sense into it, her head, buried in sand. Aboveboard, out in the fresh sun dry powder, never mind lipstick. Know no normal never again, she said. Not that blind apparently. They’ll learn at the house of hard rocks. Bend like reeds in the wind, cousin Larry said.

Glass Transparent. 3D. On stage. Like. Looking and listening they were, glass to the window. She can handle it with her hair in place earring on belly hid. Stand in the window open mouth wide shriek like banshee after she’s gone. Crazy. Care. Pretend.

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Charlotte of the House Hands in her lap just the way her mind took her lived her. She moved thought, did. As. Maintain her machine. Pretend do, pretend become. Charlotte.

dreams

real

lipstick

not,

oh.

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W A R R I O R S

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I I


Don’t Look I. He told her said dear girl, lay hand heavy on the white eyed sheet, thin so thin, not afraid as one might think. He had past slipped his arm round her waist to her annoyance always, up here not there, sweet eyes exploring, her, his girl, she wish he might try again, see it for how it really what is. Now. He on past sofa in grim squashed room, the ramshackle hotel across from there, came to rescue her from the clutches of defeat, take her home to new friendly safe where things are predictable kind, take my car, keep it you’ll need it, money. Low moo sound gentle disappointed always in her his it. Dear sweet girl, you look like a whore. Quiet. Afraid of what might say in his unpredictable mind place, didn’t, now. Held his quiet hand large on wide eyed sheet, disbelieving on his lips, half smile gone mind. His. Understand. How. She. II. You don’t have to Life and death certainly it is certain death if you don’t, why bother. You. Don’t. Stay. Yours to paint in forever yours, here, your own. Place nice. Sit. Stay please. Looking, not while she was there, pretend he wasn’t anyhow she knew. He was. Watching. Her. It. Took it to far corner of the room. Hide. Eyes. From, line down the middle. Need. Small room not space like Wyoming, far away. Under my nose. You. Get it right. Throw the bum out. He wouldn’t, didn’t, couldn’t. If it’s real it gets you in the gut. No brain. No worry. You don’t have to he said. xx


Stay. No. Won’t, don’t. Always there they weren’t he was. Life and death. Certainly. Sweet bitter. Pea green. Walls. Bare bottom that’s all. Not a whimper. III. Give it away don’t Always consistent. Too much energy. He said. Hoard. Precious. Juice. Use it. Those cut feelings who cares. Good for something hard not everyone can do, plow canvas word piano, violin, trombone soufflé. Be juice, whore. Get it any way, you can. Solid like marble rock no fat though. Lean firm that place where knives don’t cut except to trim fat. Plenty. Fat. Pretty smile gentle round. Don’t disappoint. Give you his anything, give it all at once you, then some. Sit on a rock catch your breath, high altitude battering ram, dust those short shorts shake out moppet head get back up to even thinner air. Bone. Distilled rarified pure sweet smell, see if you want to shed a tear, dance a jig, stroke his/her head. Make something. IV. Them John Waynes No matter, her him. Rein the gloved hand silk pink wrinkle. Those sunbonnets beg to be pushed back reveal a face of non contrite set ripe for fearless face of. Both. Contrary. V. Apparently they did John, Clint who care dare show the world and anyone who. Sit on a rock he’ll catch your breath. Take you up high apparently they did, him, them, etc. xxi


VI. You don’t have to

he said she heard

give it away.

soft.

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W A R R I O R S

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I I I


Traveling Charlotte I. The Abyss Say hello, be near impossible put on nice contemplating, things they don’t can’t know without practice of course, Freddie said, prepare to be disappointed, they she can play and wear it like a new dress which tends to wear itself until you get the hang of the lay of the land, her, so it won’t choke cut off any new ideas she might be attempting to try out on, record broke, they don’t won’t understand. Til they do. II. Broke Glass Car loaded for bar, how much longer than one minute past the last you ask, wind in auburn hair do you love me, truck too close, only when he is there does it make sense, anything, glass in back, everyone okay, you ask. Do you still love me, how much, it’s all over you ask you have glass in your hair does it hurt, when will you be home you ask all over, wash it wash it now wash it out. Him. Just like the slivers of it on the back seat, shards. Her. Charlie can you get up can you, sharps in auburn, Don’t cry. She will. III. Concho Charlotte Pack him up pots included baby makes four ye land lubber, no water there only golf polyester wallet, always wash 'em so they’ll nothing to do but dodge those balls water away doctors drink plenty fluids. Try not to xxiv

to the hills course fat last longer, grass keep fight when


she climbs through cupboards she’ll put them back not necessarily in order. Walk down the path for arrowheads and other memorabilia to have for after. Turn back to see the yellow man with eyes wide with disbelief, fear. Smile. IV. Charlotte Giacometti Large as she leaves near as she fars, all the same, must be the water or just being short. Hold still while he shapes, puts where he needs her. Stay. Can’t pin the size down. He says. Just needs. What. Don’t cry She will be there at the end it doesn’t matter how near far or in between. You’ll probably be quite large then going south. V. Charlotte RV Her in her wee bed surrounded by toy ball games, her silver head plumped on pillows playing nearby not far to be close unlike her and her escape hatch at the ready. Three shades of green in the hills, not as dark as the bile, up the flower hill that spewed forth relief inside the eight wheel monster soon to be her new best friend. Stretch out, nice cup of tea inside the eight wheeler her new best friend. Feel better. VI. Charlotte Tree She being a tree needing water, water scarce, come over, see her, color and touch, her, not enough mountains are him, don’t get out much anymore, lights xxv


too bright might fall in a hole, dark, lost too easy, crowd more lonely. Get out. Once at least, day time is good not too many chipmunks with broken legs can’t see, but plenty of moose. Don’t have to. Once is enough. Chipmunk. Day not as long as lights out. Carry suitcase in the middle of the night puny arms don’t ask. Help. Escaping from too much green. Okay if enough water. Please go home. Take me. Angry mountain with needles sticking in. Press down on those arms. Yellow things. She may have to go search for Mohammed if he won’t come, here. Mountain. Fend off sheets not clean. Take them to the mall. Plenty of water there for a tree. Green.

Charlotte Saghuaro Prickly pear she done got herself so angry she spew rattlesnake poison all over the desert or at least the car with her scrunched over there like a naughty child taking the beating guilty as charged Charlotte in progress, that glass almost half full with poison or prickly cholla cactus because he left her and not coming back. Don’t get near the cholla, it tends to jump and stick and cling and go in deeper and the blood starts seeping out you can’t grab hold it gets sticky and stickier. Have to get the tweezers. Angry. Same. Not coming back.

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Charlotte Rose Sat beside her with her for her there her. For. Ever.

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W A R R I O R S

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I V


Becoming Charlotte I. Charlotte Grocery Store Look like yes they did, become no one home, must be in the deep set grocery aisle eye soup to nut aisle. She want to be like her except not in the look department drop dead gorgeous department no hope there department. Where. No chignon sparkle button red on head. Large of eye. Bulldog. Never mind the tight squeeze they’re working on that he said, just don’t leave the sofa, safe, or get in large places like the painted desert might get grouchy and everyone will go home. II. Charlotte Mirror, Mirror Almost now, come. Everything does you know come when you are laughing, maybe best not. Laugh. Stop that Charlie in your way. Just keep trying to get up out of your chair with your knobble knee or better yet take it with you to your small community with a population of twelve. He’ll keep making fun of him and making people laugh over there better intentions. Does he know he is funny. Do not laugh. She’ll miss him when they are there and he’s not, a buffer against they’re mean she said then glass flew all over. She still looks like him. Could hardly wait til he came home to talk even when she didn’t look like her anymore. Hear. No need to yell, stop that Charlie, she does it too with a cough not a laugh. Night light bright light night, no flat tire, no hair muss no suspect mirror laying in wait, car window booby trap. Stay with deep set. No craziness there. Almost. xxix


III. Charlotte Became The same. How did it. Two plus two make one. That’s how. Shopping finished hair dye bought no need to change. Can’t. Can you. Try. All the same sweetness. Bulldog. Same.

Almost

become

now.

Okay.

xxx


D I A R Y

O F

M A D

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G I R L S


I. Even as if ants go up her arm and nerves whilst packing her/his stuff for the long haul up there to where he loved best, more than her, even if, and those pots pans forks plates spoons cups necessary to make life natural while they wait, he sits there sick and yellow, resemble you kitten, wait, she load up the car and get him and theirs in there just so he can for maybe a few more times water his grass he loves in front of that adobe saguaro prickly pear house golf course in back balls flying every which, duck, she will because she loves him, those nerves short of fuse already lit, her restraint. His. II. Hers. Now. Voice strong when she was young and strong now still as if she was when he told her only one week and other she believed it. Impatient. She took her home and put her flat in bed no movement except for arms that hug that flat empty body of wait one week. More. She’ll choose a song that no one sang when time was right all lined up in a row of woebegone crocodile skirt and blouse and purse to look good for when she left for good. Are you waiting for the book to be read finished she asked, the new flat waiter said no in the flat voice body. The sun streamed into the flower room whilst she grit her teeth and bared her _, raised up to meet it in the flat body don’t touch she flinch so as not to have to stay any longer, her love for the other so powerful if she xxxii


touched her she might have to stay somewhat longer than she could properly bear. She, in a hurry, both. III. She stayed having both of them and herself to know even if, she was somewhat lacking good grace tolerance and shame, guilt is a wonderful thing making up for knowing those thoughts and words so bad. Finished? Chekhov said we want them to move it along hurry it up, maybe it’s for what we’ll do or be or see when the dream is not, real the permanence of hurry up sits on her chest like Dumbo and all his baggage. Heavy.

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Mud Luscious Press A Minor Artifice Upstairs At Duroc

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