Tania Rochelle


Iím sitting on him in my living room chair,
his lap like a table where my bills pile up,
his lap a glossy table I dance across,
and from it rises his big carpenter's hand,
then down and into my shirt, heís asking
if Iíd have his child. Fat fucking chance,
Iím thinking. "I know all I need to know,"
he soothes as weíre watching PBS on the widespread
use of antidepressants; Iíd rather pay a shrink
the hundred-plus dollars to whine about
my fatherís floating penis, about that straw
perched on the lip of that tall drink, that olive
trembling in the bottom of a glass, and zombie dreams
starring my dead sister, grave-tight until twilight
when she appears, post-autopsy, offering up
odd pieces of herself. Hereís what Big Guy Lover
doesnít know: Alcoholics take hostages.
He pulls my face up to his, his eyes deep
as disco, says, "Sweetie, I know you could never
be depressed, you smile too much."  I just grin
and shimmy over the hardwood, an unransomed
history aimed at his head.

Tania Rochelle
Date of Birth: March 21, 1963
Day Job: Writing instructor, Portfolio Center, Atlanta; Private workshops.
Location: Marietta, Georgia, Land oí the Strip Mall
Email: TRoche4606@aol.com
Publications: Iris, New York Quarterly, Snake Nation Review, Mediphors, The Drunken Boat, Three Candles, Thunder Sandwich, The Blue Moon Review, Stirring, etc.
Anthologies: Split Verse, edited by Meg Campbell and William Duke; We Used To Be Wives, edited by Jane Butkin Roth
Awards: Editorís Choice Award, Snake Nation Review

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