the beach was littered with red that night
near the end of September
the sun was mourning the end of its reign
the fact that he’s so blazing here year-round
was little consolation
he gave himself a pity party
I just remained and enjoyed the constellations
I hope to see the blue deep
before I leave this world
have it be real
not a dream
have my ears echo from
all the calls of the sea
and
feel content when I taste
the foam like cream
they were running wild near the edge of a cliff
and they asked you to rip your heart out
which you gladly did but then they told you
to push one of them off the brink
push, you weakling, push
would it be your young blonde with the lovely smile
or your red-headed child with eyes of light?
you put your heart back in and begged them to
take it again
they looked at you like those hollow
beings that haunt you during the day
without saying a word, without a second glance
cause you’d had enough of their nonsense
said a silent prayer and took flight
like falling snow
leaving whispers of forgiveness
that your children would never know
it’s freaking me out
this business of growing old
wanting my face to remain like stone
staying calm with one hand
resting over the other
while
waiting and tending to
this business of growing old
brown tipped moth led the way
past the swamp, the marsh, the murk.
away from the swarm of ink
waiting to envelop me.
it led the way past the squished
garnet worms beneath my
cardboard sneakers, me
whispering sorry
past the house with the
flamingos in their pool,
past the party, the envy, the fools.
brown tipped moth led the way
and I followed, inhaling its dust
past the chatter, the damage, the lies.
away from this flock of fear
and
away from thinking there
must be better than here.
I felt the friction like a cat’s tongue
hesitating to taste what’s on my finger
cooed sweet baby words in its ear
to get him to linger
drove under the dopey gray clouds
so tired from the day
and told big happy lies to myself
begging the sunshine to stay
her skirt blowing in the wind,
next to the cliff, next to the ocean
her gnarled foot making the rocks,
the sand trickle down
flashbacks of her ballet time
her foot against the edge
and
the crows flew sideways that day
she looking out with eyes closed
wondering if tomorrow she’d be so brave
flashbacks of her walking away
the demon he carried was larger than him
he was unaware but I saw it
and I was just a little girl
this man who smelled of cigars and aging skin
barely spoke, but he had all the baby dolls lined up
and I’m sure he touched them all
including me, innocent and small
this man who crept in with the shadows
when he thought I was asleep, didn’t have a clue
I could turn into a statue and not make a peep
this man was naught, this man who was a creep.
had a dream that I was playing the violin last night.
their scrolls were bobbing in the ice, the vapor was
freezing on the strings.
made me want to reach for my rosin,
but instead I felt your hand pulling me
out of my dream.
hear the static voices screaming, SHEILA!
cry out as the spirits jump on top of me,
causing me to fly much like her blossoms
that blew in our yard last night.
the flowers looked like paper mâché hearts,
the white and pink on them torn.
much like my far-gone heart, beaten and worn.
watched the wind make them scatter and I’m
wondering how I let myself even
care that they mattered.
I want to tell you a story about a girl and the sea
but no matter how I begin it
I end up talking about him and me
and I’m brought back to that February day
where it ended – my time spent alone with him
and yet he cries cause he misses it
and every harmonic makes me think of death
how he punched until I had no breath left
and how much energy it took to whimper the word
STOP
I’d rather talk about how I held my breath watching
you disappear into the waves
talk about how you plucked the ivory treasures from the floor
those endless sandy walks finding the sea glass you adore
marvel that you really are so brave
instead of feeling like he’s marching me to my grave
I want to tell you a story about a girl and the sea
but no matter how I begin it
I always end up talking about him and me
