miss

been so long sometimes I forgot the color of your hair

miss the way you meandered through our home

much like those ghosts with tambourines around

their ankles and faraway thoughts in the air

 

been so long sometimes I forgot the way you cared

miss the vision of you with gold around your neck

much like those spirits with the sun at their backs

their warmth and faraway peace in their prayers

 

 

 

astray

gave a gorilla a teacup and he crumbled it before

I could reach out, I tried my best not to cry

over that ancient porcelain

I tried again and it happened over and over until

the floor was covered with shards of my past

went to bed perplexed that my praise didn’t

motivate him enough to care to keep them

or at least to want to make me happy

rested my head upon my aged pillow

among the dust, among the plaster

dreamt of gorillas with their array of fractured teacups

and their damned gigantic buckets of laughter

bond

woke up and there was doom, so much

it was like I was drinking it from a cup

perhaps it’s because I dreamt of those black

ribbons that like to get tangled in my hair

that damned pretentious silk

I feel them now but I have to forage for

those twisted inky feminine cords

don’t you see them

you have to see them I swear

but

you insist they aren’t even there

and

I know I must give up my lost search

not question this pain on earth

long to walk without a step

breathe but not take a breath

just be and not let go yet

over

on this day of raindrops on our lips

and

wishing on vanishing rainbows 

you told me you were happy it was gone 

cause it demanded too much attention

but its departure left me useless 

and 

I’ll  miss the purple clouds 

and the pelicans floating

between 

the horizon and the nodding sun

and 

I’ll miss this feeling 

that I don’t want to leave 

play

those red butterflies take me back to the time when

those annoying crickets lulled me to sleep

dreamt I was barefoot on the gravel

running to that abandoned church

where those lost souls would be baptized

stood up high to pretend to speak

but I knew I wasn’t worthy

running back to the little, green house

the gravel biting at my soles

I whimpered and looked back –

you ran and didn’t even feel the rocks

you came laughing back,

your feet untouched

daughter

if an angel were with skin, this is the skin she’d be in

and it gladdens my heart that he was there

with his red plaid falling in love with you

when you were tired of running

you thought we’d be abandoned

but, look at us dear, we’re still standing

I admire your spirit, your laughter

your view on this entire situation gone mad

the way you send prayers to stop me feeling sad

so sad, which confirms my thinking

that if an angel were with skin

it’s your skin she’d be in

led

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. 

choice

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