23 Chromosomes
by Mayadet Patitucci
Our DNA carries 23 genetic chromosomes Passed down from cross pollination, A cross migration of the smallest kind Resulting in the impossibility of ever finding out From whom did you get what. But we all have our theories don't we.
I was told I got my voice from my mother, But when she was born she didn't scream. Water and sand was what flowed from her mouth, The entire land of Puerto Rico erupted from her stomach. When I was born I screamed. The pinches from emptiness howled with no recollection of a land
I was told I get my smoking from my father, He needs something to take control of too. Of where - and when - and how he dies.
I was told I get my politics from my grandmother, Beautiful socialist and black clad policewoman She walked with her hand firmly on her pistol: protection with a licensed cock.
I was told I get nothing from my stain-glass roman-catholic great grandmother. I don't have her love for white skin or a man in a funny hat But secretly I stare at the stain glass and bloody crucifixes Desperate. I even wanted to be a nun once but keep that to you, I was in love with the black hats, the long holy virginal hair.
I was told I would get a love of drink from my father, But the countless pass outs, Piss pouring on pants and rug painted yellow With our months' rent soaked always kept me from the freezer where Bottles upon bottles upon bottles slept.
I will tell you this now and you will be the first to know...
I fear I will get my insanity from my grandmother. I fear the rubber stick forced into my mouth, The straps around the arms, Cut and scratched, cat hair and chills, The barred windows with Penless, paperless, deskless rooms.