I do not remember how it feels to be twelve,
but most of the time it’s all I can think about.
Sometimes I think you’ll rise up from the grave,
Sometimes I can not believe that you’re dead,
I have always found desperation beautiful,
And maybe this is all a baptism,
But I wish they’d have told me it hurts so damn bad.
The forest is alive
Branches snap in exclamation to a joke
Whispered by the trees
The wind whines in protest
To the crushing of flowers
Not by a foot but a sole
You are alone on this path
Through the underbrush
Through the pine thickets and burrs
Through the wildflower dotted fields
But you never feel alone
When he bites my skin,
I dream of how your teeth used to sink in.
These bites do not have your imprint.
I wish his hands would fit the way yours did around my neck,
But they’re not your yellow stained nails,
oh, how I used to hold them dear to my chest.
I think I understand Medea a little more now.
Look at my hands.
When the hands that would rather scratch out your own eyes
do harm, what is there to do?
When you hurt them,
where is there to go but the gods?
The bird who sits in the cage of my heart
Won’t stop singing his off-key off-kilter
Out-of-it songs
And the dog who is tethered to a leash in my head
Won’t stop barking at the bird that sits
In the cage of my heart.
Time ploughs through,
straight as a waterfall
gravity condemned.
Space splays out,
tumbles toys in tsunamis,
chokes where sun meets sand.
I spent weeks visiting a therapist;Trying to process what was happening to me –what was happening to Kathy –It all seemed so impossible.Take your time, the Therapist said, as I stared at the giant,smudge-like painting on […]
It’s August 31st, the day of the dead.Wilma’s lying in her coffin,hands flat under breastsand wrapped in rosary beads.Husband Amos hangs about near dark, deep curtains.With any luck, they’ll swallow him.Divorced daughter pales her face […]
Sit outside cafes
let conversations drip,
settle on skin,
seep up nostrils,
become voices
chattering small storms in heads…
threads of thoughts
captured,
managed into
Man/Woman-Fridays.