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?

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.

elude

I want to build a house by the coal sea.

You say Mr. Take Awayer won’t find us

there by the dark sea that rocks us to sleep.

Mr. Take Awayer will wear a shabby

garb of white.  You tell me he floats sideways

in the contrast of night.  Always at night.

By the vast sea I pray his calls are drowned

out by the violent waves and rocky shore.

He beckons to deceive you far from me.

But you won’t hear him I promise.  I swear.

I hope you’ll be happy, hope we are too.

When I build a house by the jet black sea

and every night have its torment sway us

to dreamland.  Find comfort knowing it could

swallow us, forgetting this pain on earth.

Hidden afar from Mr. Take Awayer.

 

 

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

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

 

panic

the panic waits till I’m asleep

lifts me from my unstable trance

to remind me that I need to feel it

that panic echoes in my ears 

“Yes, Sheila, you’re going to feel it.”

 

makes my heart jump and skip 

as I peel my shirt from my chest

start chanting prayers 

visualize where he’s at 

start covering him in prayer 

imagine angels by his door

his sleeping body under its wings 

 

tell the panic to leave me alone 

let’s go back to that unstable sleep

then tomorrow I’ll feel it, I promise 

“Yes, Sheila, you’re gonna feel it.”

can’t

 

I can’t even enjoy the rain anymore.

I’m always pacing, reaching for the door. 

I can’t even savor my meals anymore.

I’m always eating while standing; 

hurriedly chewing and choking. 

I can’t even stand my showers anymore.

That water hurts my burgundy 

striped shoulders.

I can’t even stand to stand anymore.

The gorilla on my back just keeps 

getting older. 

I can’t even love my words anymore. 

They just sit here pretty like, 

as a constant reminder that 

I just can’t anymore.