Broken

•January 7, 2020 • Leave a Comment

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

Hope

•January 4, 2020 • Comments Off on Hope

The sweet silver bows
Tied fast to my toes belie
Blackness in my chest

– me

Painting: Satin Bow by Roxanne Dyer

Cathartidae

•December 31, 2019 • Comments Off on Cathartidae

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

Cin

•December 30, 2019 • Leave a Comment

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

Bare

•December 21, 2019 • Comments Off on Bare

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

No

•December 16, 2019 • Comments Off on No

“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

Ghosts

•November 13, 2019 • Comments Off on Ghosts

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

 
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