Amanda Chiado
Today I Wear the Bear Head
The flesh inside smells like my mother’s neck. The world is gauzy and brighter as I gaze out from behind the generous fur. Sweet, ravenous tufts. I hold my roar like a church bell in my belly. My claws are tender sharp. I can’t stop tonguing about the honey buzz, the dance of the bees crowning my head. I am somebody’s king. I will wear the head until my body calls me home. It’s hard to tell at dusk what the darkness will bring.
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The Trouble with Babies
The trouble with babies is that they are fortune tellers, and they aren’t afraid to give you bad news. They pull the death card like nobody’s business. They rain down knives and usher in the storms. They’ve mastered scratching their own eyes out. They battle swaddled like New Mexican breakfast burritos, protecting their golden crown chakras. Their slowly extending bones say, Shhhh. We are so detached from god we can’t hear the chime of their shifting skulls.
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Amanda Chiado is the author of Vitiligod: The Ascension of Michael Jackson (Dancing Girl Press). Her poetry and short fiction has most recently appeared in Rhino, The Pinch Journal and Barren Magazine. Her work has been nominated for the Pushcart and Best of the Net. She is the director of arts education at the San Benito County Arts Council, is a California Poet in the Schools, and edits for Jersey Devil Press. Her website is www.amandachiado.com. All her social handles including X are @amandachiado.