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
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
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
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.
slight man with a red beard and mane
“the waves aren’t even that big at all, let’s go!”
she, the color of dark espresso
stood playfully at the shore
her hands gleaming and airy
she let the water splash at her knees
he walked out of the water
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.
Ma petite fleur, please 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.
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?
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.