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

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

uncomfortably

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 

creep

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.

shower

you’ll never know what secret thoughts I think,

entertain; as my eyes match my fogged up

window.  catch myself against the side to

keep from falling; falling from all my damn

sobbing.  secret thoughts to make this hell end.

awful thoughts, selfish thoughts.  the banana

leaves try earnestly to shake me from my

disturbing trance.  those distant violins

try to keep me awake.  they beg me to

follow their sorrow, but they have no clue

what’s in store for my crazy tomorrows.

you’ll never know what secret thoughts I think;

dark thoughts that would make you run, make you sink.

Je suis désolé

Ma petite fleurplease forgive me,

I’ve told you too much.

I opened up like the earth with dirt spilling,

oozing back into the bottomless pit.

Didn’t see you fall in, because I was so busy complaining. 

Didn’t recognize you, covered in that soil – as I walked away. 

Please forgive me, ma petite fleur.

I messed up the delicate balance of aging

and becoming a friend. 

I put him first even when I thought my

life would end.

I pray that you’ll be stronger for it someday,

ma petite fleur. 

I pray that you’ll forgive me. 

barely

gently place the bow to string.  tiptoe on

ice, nearly silent.

how do you do it?

appear and then leave almost without a

trace, but I witness your shadow depart.

I reach out to air to find no one there.

here, nearly silent.  

how do you do that?

vanish

this world so disturbed, the faint blades of grass

could have seizures.  familiar sight it’d be.

this world so caught up with itself, it left

dead roots ever reaching for the water.

such a pitiful sight, those upturned trees.

walking numb past strangers wearing glass masks

of sameness to fool me.  pretend they are

my friends, but I know better than to think

such silly things.  this world becoming a

small black box with pretty jewels to trick us.

this world so disturbed, we’ve all lost our minds,

such thievery, but we stand with arms up

willing to share anything.  it takes our

hopes, dreams, everything and swallows it whole.

taken, leaving us to search evermore

all over this dying, beautiful world.

 

vanity

 

I wore a flash ring on every finger.

seven bracelets on my once small wrist.

grew envious of how well that boy looked

wearing the black floral dress standing there

by the pink roses with an expression

I couldn’t name.  how it oddly made me

miss your shadow in the night.  how it made

me mutter under my breath like a spell.

stirred the craving to be young again.  but

sometimes the memories can be cruel and

deceiving and I harshly remember

the beauty never lasts and never will.