Sitting still
Right here
Will guide me
But I’m afraid
The fate I’d meet
It’s not the feelings
Locked in ice
That drives
But the empty
Void beneath
-me
photograph of Abraham Lake, by Gavin Hardcastle, found here: https://www.fototripper.com/abraham-lake-photography-tips/
There’s a jackhammer
Beside my brain
Jostling bricks
And shaking thoughts
That used to keep me sane
-me
I carried
Your “new” love
On my back
For years
Without knowing
Except I knew
I was
Raising our child
Loving you
And our home
Mostly alone
While you
Erratically
Erotically
Traveled, and roomed,
And rode next to
Each other
With increasing
Frequency
And I
With less
Communication
Except
Promises
All the while
That I could trust
You
Both
And I did
-me
Photo of Junk Lady from Labyrinth
The sweet silver bows
Tied fast to my toes belie
Blackness in my chest
– me
Painting: Satin Bow by Roxanne Dyer
She said,
In her softest
Kindest
Self-help voice
“Find your inner hummingbird,
And not your inner vulture, please.”
But oh
That second
Sacred
Hunching bird
The one who looms
With talons curled
And beak
For scraping bone
And ripping meat
The one who
Needs and waits
For death and feeds
Who faces rot
So we do not
That is the beast
I miss and lost
And now
I sense her
Circling
And see
Her shadow
Once again
I’m bellowing,
“Welcome Old Girl!
It’s time to feast
There’s a death
In me
Needs picking
Clean.”
-me
Artist Unknown
The day after
Dies with
An unseen sigh
A quick puff
Into nothing
A bond that
Never was
Because
It isn’t now
And ashes
Never thawed
One single
Ice-cold thing
-me
Photograph by Remsphoto
While
Bathing
My hands
Fold randomly
As if in prayer
A lotus bud
On porcelain
I pause to see
Pink fingers warm
And memories drip
Pressed clean
And blanched with
Cool Petition
Pruning tips
So slightly
Splayed
I supplicate
And soon
Am weeping
Beauty’s
Bare in
Agony
– me
“You are not
Who I thought
You were
But instead
Exactly who
I always feared
You’d be,”
She sobs.
How does one
Crack themselves
Open enough
To speak
Any words
Beyond those
To anyone
Ever again?
How do I…
-me
Painting: No more words #3
by William Stoehr
A gift bag caught on a bare branched tree
Old cobwebs sway, too high to reach
Ancient names on a new marquee
My mind sliced thin, holes swissed like cheese
-me
Photograph by Rachel Thompson
That
I ruin
Everything
Pick it apart
Dissect quick
The expected
Ask too many
Questions
Why why why
And who
Does this serve
And what
Was neglected
And how
To accept it
Their shine
Overrated
Too much them
Reflected
Give me rust
Turned to dust
And from that
Creation
-me
Painting: Dust to Dust, by Yada Yakova
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