Musings and Misgivings
Barelegged and braless,
stargazing at the wall,
waiting for
a burning ball of gas
to sweep me into a vacuum
where the air is so thin
that my brain can’t
find it
“How does that make you feel”
they would ask
and I’d say “weightless”
for now, though, it’s all heavy
and my eyes are falling in
so I can’t see the starlight
only a wall
9-04-19
If I was a bird
I’d fly as effortlessly
as she pulls on his heart
and watch him watch her
through the clouds
There are other wings
he’s fixed
but he’s never had to bandage hers
so I wonder sometimes
if he sees me as wounded
or if someday he could look up
and see me
in the same sky
8-22-19
Sometimes shattered glass still cuts my brain
and you see me wince like the child I was
when I went running through the tall grass
with snakes and ticks and spiders
who made better company
than the venomous tongues in the kitchen
Resolution was a closed door
and three young girls
talking about tomorrow behind it
Peaceful were the days when I foraged for
shredded cheese and ketchup sandwiches
and raced the dogs to the creek
Heavenly were the days when I visited
my friend in the trailer park
and we sang Shania on the trampoline
while her mom made us macaroni
(she always asked if I wanted seconds)
Now I nod along to J.D. Vance
but you can’t understand where we’ve been
and how hard it is to throw away the white trash
that we’ve collected in heart-heavy landfills,
our memories like landmines exploding
with a mere whiff of mildew
or the sound of shattered glass on linoleum floors
8-16-19
how do I talk to a river
when I am an ocean,
pushing and pulling,
swelling but never
reaching the mouth
you are constant and strong
most days I am quiet and calm,
but some days I rip through
my own flesh to break free of the tide
how could you ever understand
the storm that bites my heels
or why I never left it at the riverbanks
where I sought any semblance
of love or strength or presence
to stifle my little voice
I thought I was preserving it
but I think I may have lost it
somewhere in a prayer
so how do I talk to a river
now that I am faithless
7-25-19
The sauvignon blanc fills his mouth and
his eyes burn blue and gray and bright
as the kitchen’s light
He crafts his incite like a carpenter,
filling my ears with the sawdust of a previous life,
but all I can hear is “A Case of You”
And I finally understand what Joni meant
I have always collected rain water
but I have never stood out in a storm
with my mouth and eyes wide open,
watching my future light up the sky
in shades of blue and gray
I have never been this sober
and I have never been so in love with the rain
7-9-19
that last inhale
just before the rain clears
sucking teeth
to dry the leaves
and call the fireflies
out of the grasses
and after the earth exhales
there’s only the stillness
of wet pavement
and the vapid efforts
of bald tires,
extended like the Creation of Adam
with no solace from God or turf
no direction or pull of the moon
no outstretched hands
only the asphalt vapors
waving at the headlights,
watching the cars pass by
6-29-2019
tight chest, juice pressed
from the fruit of my labor
and its rotting skin
do you remember
blades of grass under
small feet?
the world spinning by
on the merry-go-round?
we laughed and jumped
and felt our bones crack
for the first time.
it was never a thought
until we were motionless
the whirring world
carries on but with
less laughing and
more cracking of the whip.
nothing is broken
but something is always spinning
5-14-19
Stalking the sun,
it paints the dirt before me
like a reckless Pollock
The colors splatter
against the trees
and freckle my skin
Birds cry out for attention
and I give it to them
(you say I have a hard time saying no)
I have always chased the light
as if it’s something to be caught
But what difference does it make
if it steals my eyes
when I see how the world could be
and not how I have known it
5-7-19
how many years have we been told
our eyes must sink like suns
behind the mountain men,
because warmth is an invitation
to strip the valley of its flowers
how many hours have we spent
covering our faces in flesh-toned tarps
to keep the rawhide in
and the tired out
how many times have we cradled
our sagging skin like babies,
damp from neglected tears
and swollen from the sting of
unattainable perfection
vanity is a word they made up
to excuse their expectations of
soft but firm
sweet but assertive
pure but provactive
wise but ageless
now when my eyes
are trapped in glass,
I liberate them with
a gap-toothed grin
and tell the world
it can’t have me
4-29-19
