These are the days
Of buying herbs
And being still
These are the nights
Of undressing full
Under the moon
These are the minutes
Of noticing each
Minuscule difference
These are the hours
Of finding colors
Which compliment
My darkness
-me
Painting title and artist unknown
My soul is stuck
An air bubble
In an antique vase
The fire that shaped
And pulled me thin
Ended before
I could find my way
Free
-me
There’s a thread
That connects
To a just-tilted
World
It’s been carefully
Stitched
To my insides
Since birth
By a moon
Who worked quick
In the shadow
Of earth
My birth-blood
Still coats her
Occasionally
And I welcome
The tug
That aches
And pulls me
To the dark
Distant dreamer
She meant
Me to be
-me
The stillness of not yet
The pregnant intake of a breath
The pause of gossamered belief
The peace we borrow before grief
The fading dream till we forget
The weighted stillness of not yet
-Me
I do not quite know how
To plumb my newfound peace
For bits of beating gore
But have no fear
My famished pet
There’s tender horror in me yet
-Me
I hear the thrum
Of hummingbird wings
Ominous behind me
I want to turn
To meet her
And make petals
Of my salty flesh
To drain my veins
And feed her with
Any sweetness
I have left
-Me
A ribbon of the past
Danced across the sky
And I, I heaved and cried
For the vast expanse
Of all the things
That I will never know
-Me
A canopy
Of ravens
Sang cacophony
And called
Me out
Into the soft of day
Which hushed
And sank
Beneath my feet
And kept me
Still
Like live oak roots
Until the moss
Could fall and fill
All empty hope
I had
No sound
But clacking bones
Of palm fronds
Bowed
To cover what remained
Of me
And I, I slept
While insects swarmed
And stars careened
I slept
And dreamt
Of dying
In a different world
-Me
Shadows
Where sockets
Should be
Eyeballs
Hip bones
Shoulders
Teeth
Closed or
Open
These points
Known
Clearly
Only
To me
Approach
Holding your own
Needs
And risk
And see
-me
I have built this
With my mind
From bits
That I remember
How does gravity work
There are rules
What are they
Sliding chairs
Noisily
Across the floor
Legs seem important
For reaching
Which way
Musical games
Fighting not to be left
Standing precarious
In an empty space
Is this right
How do I
Find my seat
I rise, yes
I’ll just rest here
Near the light
And read myself
To sleep
-me
Painting: A Little Light Reading, by Roxana Halls
sometimesihatemycat 