Swallow down a big gulp of the stuff,
stare at computer screen.
Gulp a bigger hit.
Stare at screen.
...
(After Joan Crawford, the nickname my mother gave herself)
Here you are
ringed with pearls
...
That awful photograph.
14, worst case of acne
in the United States.
My very best dress,
...
(Dedicated to all the women in the world who were able to give up every man in their lives except Elvis)
I wouldn't tell this to many people
but from the time I was eight years old
...
He was a Doberman Pinscher
allowed to lay on my bed at night
to protect me
...
Chocolate Waters has been writing and publishing poetry for over four decades. During the second wave of feminism, she was one of the first openly lesbian poets to publish and her contribution has been documented in Feminists Who Changed America 1963-1975 (U of Il. Press, Barbara Love, Ed.) . Her first three collections: To the man reporter from the Denver Post, Take Me Like A Photograph & Charting New Waters are considered classics of the early women's movement. She is the recipient of a New York Foundation for the Arts fellowship in Poetry, a fellowship from the Barbara Deming Memorial Fund and IN 2006 was awarded a ‘‘fruitie'' for the best poetry performance in the Fresh Fruit Festival held in Manhattan. Her poetry, which has won many individual awards in addition to being nominated for several Pushcart prizes, is widely published & anthologized. Currently hailed as the ‘‘Poet Laureate of Hell's Kitchen, '' Waters is also a pioneer in the art of performance poetry. She has toured throughout the United States, but makes her home in Manhattan where she teaches poetry workshops, runs a submission service for serious poets, tutors individual clients and is often a participant in the New York City poetry circuit. Her latest collection, Muddying the Holy Waters, was published by Eggplant Press in 2021 and is now available on Amazon. Her website www.chocolatewaters.com is up and running.)
Drinking Clan Macgregor For Inspiration
Swallow down a big gulp of the stuff,
stare at computer screen.
Gulp a bigger hit.
Stare at screen.
I'm hungry.
Cook up Mrs. Stouffer's
frozen Tuna Noodle Casserole.
Swig more scotch.
Stare at screen.
More scotch.
Stare intensely at screen.
Retrieve casserole from oven.
Trip over chair.
Casserole flies off plate.
Splatters best rug.
I leave it there.
Add three ice cubes to scotch.
Return to staring down screen.
Write a few words.
Still starving.
Dig out Pepperidge Farm Frozen Apple Turnovers.
Blast oven to 450 degrees.
Pass out.
Three hours later.
Turnovers are charred black triangles.
Apartment is burning down.
Through smoke I make out words
I've written on screen.
They say:
'Don't forget to turn off the blasted turnovers.'