Two Shades of Brown
In sixth grade, Gina would slide across the desks
her pencil bag & we’d swap
brown & maroon shades of lipstick
Heavy boundaries of eyeliner Our
distractions caked & patted In
between history book chapters
Standinglike our teacher at the front of the room, occupied
Behind textbook examples of civil wars and treaties
We skimmed through first world conquests
Of third world countries
Constructed resting legs from hardcover and pages
Applied eye shadow during a discussion of
Puppet governments
Like it never precluded us
Make-up in the absence of history
Is necessary, if anything, American & essential
& Hella cishet male & not (for) us &
weren’t we just making amends
The scraggles of notebook margins on our faces
Our perforated classroom appearances
Each stroke highlighting our names Blending so as not to erase.
Offerings for Homegirls
when the poems don’t come to me / and i wonder in this boba shop how you’re doing/ where i eat tater tots with my boyfriend / and we are talking about education and good, essential unit questions / the universe sends me a homegirl thru a phone call / where her tone indicates a break-up or not getting the job or a family member in the hospital / and it’s the former / so much that even my boyfriend knows that we will have to finish my thai milk tea with grass jelly / and his taro smoothie with pearls / soon / so that i could swoop up yael / which i’ve done before with ading chris/ for carmela / for april / and would absolutely do for paola / kirstie / bel / shana / caz / tep / and if i haven’t already done it, for aileen / grace / steph / malou / gladys / because this is generosity and sisterhood isn’t cement / ain’t a single act of kindness / sisterhood is treating women, especially the ones close to me, like the books of poems you actually buy and read over and over again / and tell all your friends about the good parts so that they can get in on it, but you don’t spoil it unless they say it’s okay / this is the intuition i sip on / saving the rest for tomorrow / and when i wonder again if you’re okay without me / i think about how she sits next to me / and says he said he loved her /and how she said it back but not wishing she hadn’t / and i asked / knowing the answer already / if he said it first? / to which she replied yes he did /as if i was asking her / and she tells me stories i know too well / how we both knew it couldn’t work / but we tried anyway / too many times / the same story fifty times over / and it’s not like it wasn’t love / and it’s another thing to say it / and totally different to do it / i think she says / as she eats the leftover tater tots i brought her / and i agree / even though i never said it / and still can’t say it / but it wasn’t a mistake / i believe that / i am struggling with letting it go / and she says thank you for playing lemonade / and isn’t that what any homegirl would do? / if anything, please know that i tried / we women / we try / and that’s the best it is and could be / and when i sing “i ain’t thinkin’ bout you” / i lie / because the poems don’t come this fast / so these songs will have to pretend enough / what i have left of you is what i’ve imagined / and this bar that gave us tequila and motown and a mean bartender / and how i only drank three out of a six dollar corona / and that “boy bye” is my farce for the homies who never were / and i want to tell her / i am okay (without you) / and you are good (without me) / no malice / just in your face honesty / just time / and i don’t want to feel bad about it / and i hope she heals / and may we only repeat these stories / the good parts where we’ve learned / so that other homegirls / can live out this sisterhood too
299 792 458 m / s
In Xena Warrior Princess stance / My red broomstick angled up at my window / I stand pantsless and alone in my apartment kitchen / I’m capital H / Hungry / Needing the sautée pan that’s too close to this crime scene / I’m capital S / Sad / and wanting my partner who is conveniently visiting family in Canada / who will land at SFO too late tonight / This brown stink bug on my curtain / will soon be on its shell against my wooden floors / and its six legs swirling a plea deal / will face the same fate / as his twin from yesterday /as his cousins from last week / as its sister from that one night that I couldn’t watch Wild N Out knowing she was there flying around at will / I feel fear in my body / In flight, fight, or freeze, of course I fucking freeze / pushing the speed limit of my blood flow / My legs might as well shatter from this shake / My arms might as well be plush / I am too soft for my own good / I lower my shoulders and pull the broom back to my side / My body, my only sheath for anything but weapons / Me and stinkbug are at an impasse / And why the fuck is Winnipeg so goddamn far at this moment / Farther than the five days he’s been away / All I want is to fry eggs / Chop up tomatoes and onions and garlic / And maybe spinach / and I want to slice my goddamn chicken apple chardonnay sausage because I drank last night / Instead I am praying a ritual for the life I’m about to sacrifice / Sending this one straight to bugs mansion / a sky high iced paradise / in the sky / Instead in my yellow and green striped tanktop for a shield / I am back in my warrior two pose / those lunges and squats I did really are helpful right now / and I project my broom forward / aiming at stink bug / and I fucking missed! / so I smack and smack and smack at it again / and it falls / it is mostly defenseless / squirming and only guilty of trespass / and I wonder about how strong its shell is / how after twenty or so squishes / its leg still squirm! / and how i want to call anyone who will answer their phone / how I am just five years old suddenly / how i want someone to come in and do it for me / i be so unnecessarily fragile sometimes / the independent woman I am / will wake up past noon / the kind of woman i am / will be defenseless against insects / i will / be loving to a fault / You won, stink bug / for teaching my resilience during capital V / Vulnerability / the kind of woman I am / will know when it’s to walk away / will know when it’s to walk away / and find refuge at the nearest cafe
Janice Lobo Sapigao is a daughter of Filipina/o immigrants. She is the author of like a solid to a shadow, forthcoming from Timeless, Infinite Light, and microchips for millions (Philippine American Writers and Artists, Inc. 2016). She is a VONA/Voices Fellow and was awarded a Manuel G. Flores Prize, PAWA Scholarship to the Kundiman Poetry Retreat. For more info, please visit: janicewrites.com