poor little baby, you bit your tongue
chewing on all that hatred.
was it horrible? did it cut your throat
when you swallowed it down?
did it try to climb its way back up, and
make you run to the bathroom to find
an empty stall?
poor little baby, you broke your finger
pointing it and flipping them the bird
that was carrying all that ill will.
did it break free and flee?
perhaps fly away somewhere quiet to
rest on a snow-capped tree or
a glowing, warm palm.
poor little baby, you failed the test.
I wonder if the freaks of the shattered
doors will get lost
now that the holes are fixed
I doubt they’ll cheer and clap
as we rid them of their destruction
but
I like the way the bright color
adorns the walls in this space
as I wonder how long your peaceful
calm will stay in this place
this beauty gots to even out the ugly
the motion gots to keep you steady
yet every day is just the same
left is right, this way is that way
the sun is square, the sky is brown
your sad is mad, your up is down
the beauty gots to even out this ugly
this hope gots to get you ready
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
