view

Set the cotton candy mounds ablaze;

transformed their blue haze

to grey.

Tried not to look back at the bridge that

called so boldly out

to me.

Imagined me atop its railing;

set to spring forth up

to them.

Mind wandered to that dying bunny

in the yard we found

last night.

Heart sunk and wished I’d held it so it

wouldn’t be afraid

to die.

Today you checked on it. Still breathing;

its glassed eyes on the

blue sky.

Put it in a bag; tied it tight.  To

end its misery;

its fight.

Peeked on it later; its shut eyes now

at peace.  Walked away

to cry.

la manie

it’s nothing, it’s everything

it’s the stuff fraying at the edges

it’s the goo left in-between

 

try to outwit it, run and escape it

but it’s clever, it’s faster

go blind when that mania warps shit

 

it’s nothing, it’s everything

the ailment that’s in your brain

leaving us stuck in-between

hush-hush

Have you grown weary of our clandestine

meetings?  You seem impatient with all my

weeping.  My tears getting mingled with my

drinking.  Drops of salt make it taste better

anyway.  The grief tastes sweet, begging to stay.

 

How long will it be?  How long will this grief

remain?  Tired of waking up sad mourning

in the morning.  Would rather smile back at

you, something I’ve forgotten how to do.

Could we forgive us?  Could we even try?

 

With hushed words in secret places in the

dark holes of our home, he waits and spies on

us.  We stop our chatter and vow to try

tomorrow.  Let our clandestine meetings

last.  Let’s be strong.  Let’s ruin this sorrow.

tears

kneeling, praying

think it’s raining

but

it’s only my tears

hitting the hardwood

falling heavier than

I thought they could

 

they’ve taken on a

life of their own

my tear drops crying back to me

wanting to bring me home

 

my tear drops know that

I can’t even speak

can’t even pray

but they know

He knows my thoughts

I don’t have anything

new to say

 

kneeling, praying

and

all the while

thinking it’s raining

 

 

reminisce

making me hunger for winter

the way the marble meets the sleepy sun’s

rouge that lingers in the evening

causing pangs I didn’t even know existed

thought I had my fill many years ago

when my feet were frozen to the ground

when I was surviving waist-high

in that frigid, blinding snow

rest

come and sit awhile 

let’s calm our racing hearts 

slow our breathing while

we pace our troubled thoughts 

 

only certain worries

can I handle today 

close my eyes to stop the fury

put my hands out to pray 

 

come and sit awhile 

we don’t have to say a word 

let’s just marvel at creation 

let’s wish to be like the birds

 

can’t handle any anxieties today 

I can’t even deal 

close my eyes to stop the world 

put my hand up to pray 

 

come and sit awhile 

long-lost friend of mine 

let’s just sit in silence 

until the end of time

parting

when you took my hand you let your fingers

linger on mine a little longer than usual

made me think you were saying goodbye

much like

when you hold the hand

of a loved one that’s about to die

 

couldn’t be good news I’d think,

the way you just left me

watched you walk away

one part of me not caring

the other part wanting you to stay

 

break due to Irma

 

Sorry for my absence.  We ended up having to evacuate our home in South Florida due to   Hurricane Irma.  The first day we drove to Valdosta, Georgia.  What should have been a 5.5-hour journey turned into a 12-hour drive fest on back roads to avoid the “real” jams on the Turnpike or 95.  From there the plan was to go to Birmingham, Alabama but Irma changed her course and wanted to follow us.  So, last-minute we decided to trek to Richmond, Virginia to visit family.  We spent another day in the car – this time 15 hours.  In the wee hours of the morning, we would see cars piled into rest areas – I assumed the occupants were sleeping.  We continued past and didn’t arrive at our destination in Virginia until 3 am.

My beautiful autistic son with Type 1 diabetes, epilepsy, and mental health diagnoses was given an emergency prescription of Geodon to get us there safely.  We only had one major behavior “hiccup.”  (We also had a car accident, but that’s a different story.)

My son, stressed because we had to leave our house and stuck in the car, decided to whip my head back a few times by grabbing my hair.  I’m driving, of course, and my daughter, trying to shield my head, almost had her arm broke trying to protect me.  We were, thankfully, going through a city, and I was able to pull over for safety.

Long story short – I’ll spare you the miserable details, or I’ll write a pretty poem about them later, we are finally back home.

Debris to clean up, hurricane shutters to take down and food to buy is what the next few days hold.

Our coast was spared this time, praise God!

break

red chameleon beckoned me out 

entranced me with its glossy glaze

matched the blood that fell from me

walked past the broken grill

with the torn black cover

said hello to the baby leaves 

and

let the purple tendrils wrap themselves 

around my knees

“Stay with us forever!”

I pretend to hear them plead

What beautiful, caring creatures – I think 

look up at the black

feel the moisture run down my back

marvel that it’s too humid to even breathe

watch the red chameleon crawl into

a place that I cannot go 

we all can’t be Alice that gets to fall

into that glorious rabbit hole 

look away – rip my eyes from its gaze

feel the purple tendrils unwrap their grip

from my knees 

go back into my crumbling house

ignore their saddened stance

ignore their fictitious pleas

duty

this beaten down shell of a woman 

the one with the grandest dreams 

grew tired of seeing her shadow at the bottom

and

let the violins lead her out of the water

to take a walk under the August sun 

 

unafraid to 

journey for days on end without sleep 

burdened with thirst but not take a drink

until that duty called her back in 

to cut her feet on those flawed, broken shells 

back in to swim with the eels

back to the that beaten down shell of a woman

like me