Janea Kelly | Good Hope Rd

I love Summer. Her. She.
Not my real mom. My first
fingerfuck, my favorite crush:
electric blue rubber braces,
infected hangnail
snaggletooth Summer.
Like so Oedipus with tits
in love with my
hot-hot mommy.
I love Summer.
Giving yet cruel.
I love Summer when she’s bursting hydrants
in ghettos and wasp stings and picnics under murals
that say “this is a nice enough city with ugly parts.”
Summer is the true season of my creation:
I formed supernova kumquat, you can eat my skin juicy
Mother feasted on
cold watermelon, pickled eggs.
Her hot ass sitting on the hot, hot concrete
in Anacostia rubbing swollen belly
through a sweat soaked cotton.
I love Summer.
Come alive all black licorice hopscotch
and salt water taffy crybaby.
I love Summer.
From a young age the heat was homie /lover/oppressor.
All opened mouth
sucking on the humidity
thirsting for wetness, for that good-good.
Crooked tongue, chipped teeth but so Pisces rising, Sagittarius sun:
What a nice enough girl with ugly parts.
I love
Summer.
We could all cry
about our bad hair days and I have bad hair
and bad days. Hair where you can’t get a hot comb through
my day, nights where it breaks at the end and crackles at
first touch and what I mean is I break, I crackle.
Feel my skin tighten in the sun,
my shirt cling
so salty and wet
hard nipples
visible.
I love Summer.
Me created for this heat.
DNA built to last.
DNA built to break.
All marshmallow fluff
on shaved ice melancholy
salt ‘n’ vinegar tears.
Summer kissed mother’s belly
as she sat waiting for the bus just off Minnesota Ave
and I quickened, darkened, and became.

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Janea Kelly is an Emily Dickinson with Wifi from Baltimore, Maryland. Kelly is a Sagittarius who loves kettle dill pickle chips, arugula and black coffee. She co-curates and co-hosts Tender FM, a monthly performance night in Baltimore. Def one of those people who should’ve probably known better but did it anyway. Please forward chain mail to the.importance.of.being.kelly@gmail.com.

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