deem

the evil ones, especially, love beauty

look at you, think a thought

then look away, but stare again

run fast baby girl, cause

it’s not too far behind you

like all our happy memories

kicking up that dust of the past

making our hearts ache, cause

they just couldn’t last and

my brain is stuck on these sorrows

I’m so fearful they they’ll sojourn

for all my tomorrows

the evil ones just love our beauty

could we persuade it, possibly

so that the good in it would take form

cast

Do you remember that place where the trees were tall, and the ground was soft? Everywhere you looked – your eyes were stained with moss. The wind was your white noise, and it hid all the screams from those bad boys. They took all the purple flowers and tore them up, then laughed and ran away. But you walked the other way when they punched you with closed man-sized fists. You are so good at what you do. 

And when the oldest one told you to, “JUST GO KILL YOURSELF!” — you couldn’t help but respond, “why would you say that!”  Only to remember that dream you had where you stopped yourself from swallowing all those small, oval, white pills. You never knew your eyes could fill with tears so fast. The oldest boy smiled, and you knew you had failed. He then proceeded to chase you while chanting, “I’m going to stab you with a knife.” You blocked all the hits of his colored pencil, cause at this — you are very skilled. 

And all the while remembering that Forest of the Too Tall Trees and wishing you had never seen those pitiful boys filled with bad thoughts and rage. For you’ve grown tired of how they latch on to you, how they revolve around you like you are their fucking lifesaver. So tired of being a lifesaver. Here, now— I remember that green. God, how I want to get lost in that moss. Taste the sunshine on my lips and be blinded. Do you remember that place?

impossible

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

miss

been so long sometimes I forget 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 forget 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

 

 

 

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

passing

once they removed their monstrous

parasols and offered the sun with all its

glory, I was able to see for miles,

see past the stains and all its gory.

walk past my long-limbed friends,

feel their gentle boughs crack upon me

and

wonder if that west window still

offers the view of diamonds and trees.

then without time to think, to blink,

they decide my time in the warmth

is done. parade their parasols atop

of me – flaunt like they won. close my

eyes quick and capture the burn, bid

the orange blaze to stain my gaze for days

and

weep over how much I’ll miss the sun.

 

 

 

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

elicit

top of the palm hunched like a spent witch

fallen over her broom, its thick green

hair barely tossed by the wind.

her brown limbs lacking oxygen,

left her tattered luggage stuck in the mud.

that abandonment makes me think of

all those stories of hate you wrote

thinking it would make me want to

turn the page, but I tossed your book into

the water. and it makes me wonder

how spoiled creatures can hold so much

ugly and suffering, yet leave it

displayed out for the offering.

makes me want to cut the witch down,

rid my sight of vile palms that

make me think of so much pain.

makes me wish I never followed you

down this beguiling path of eternal

sunshine and hidden rains.

makes me wish you knew me before this.