the dream

faces of frozen glass
eyes of calm
scan the women
and the children
for a new soul to incarcerate
another body to overtake
overrun
and overturn
to exhaustion.
standing shoulder to shoulder
the silent army lingers
and waits to walk beside her
and whisper in her ear
“imprecazione”.

blood

I have listened to your diatribes-
your well-rehearsed tirades
that you speak at me.
I am not strong enough
I am too weak-willed,
too forgiving-
not demanding enough of them-
too demanding of you.
I have waited outside
for you to return to tolerable.
I have waited inside
for you to deem me worthy of a
"good morning"-
forced myself to be satisfied
comforted by the quick, cold stare-
and the warmth you may eventually feel
that you don't seem to
when I am in your way.
I have felt you watch me
pick apart every move
and roll your eyes in disgust.
I have heard you laugh-
heartily-
at my need to investigate
and my desire to find some common ground
with those whom you despise-
whom I only dislike.
In spite of this,
or perhaps because of all of this-
I love you.
Because it's the right thing to do.
Because I've also seen the true smile-
heard the real laugh-
shared the joy
and seen you cry- hard
when your heart was rended as mine.
And because - no matter how often to say otherwise-
I know you love me too.

withdrawal

I miss the rush-
the floating illusion
the delicate wings
that grow and disappear
and emerge again
to fade again.
the breathing in
of gray heat
the breathing out
of a pure, white lie
I miss the allure
the feeling of power
that comes from
holding your life
in two fingers-
before you toss another piece of it away.
I miss the draw
and the pull
the ache
and the burn-
the euphoric accomplishment
of cheating death
once more.

waiting on Erato

I have sat
and listened,
waiting.
and still

silence.

still

through the gauzy curtains in the living room
everything is simpler.
details are blurred
and more easily swallowed.
the white panels that hang in the window
make all of it quieter.
But only when the sun is down
and on the other side of the world
and the black damask sky
lets all of us forget
and re-imagine-
until the morning
when we all go on.

farewell to suburbia

a slip of paper,
from the stack in her dressing table drawer
blue and delicate
with its glittering monogram
her “M”
his “J”
and their shared “W”,
met him in the kitchen.
she had left it there,
where he would see it
folded over,
next to the glass
and the bottle.
no explanation
or request for forgiveness
or acceptance was offered
no regrets expressed
about the plans to visit Paris
and walk along the Champs Élysées.
she would still go-
he knew.
and he read.
« Je ne vous aime pas.
Au revoir »

student-teacher

i remember when I chain-smoked
paid fifty cents for burnt coffee
because it made me avant-garde-
it said that i didn't care-
and thought i had all the answers.
i didn't-
and i knew that.
i was well aware that i was full of it.
but that rarely deterred me-
never stopped my desire to speak.
i would not be silent.
now you drink the same shit-stain coffee,
fight with the same washing machines
hide the same beer cans
behind the same mattress-
and you sit
and you know it all now.
but you actually might
and i wait to watch
to hear
and listen-
hoping that some of it
maybe just a piece of it
will rub off
via the internet.

the lily guard

unaware they were not growing
unaware they were unsatisfied
unaware that there was better
they sat silent-
biding time.

until she told them to keep looking
gave them mirrors
gave them music
gave them everything but silence
asking nothing in return.

and they bloomed without resistance
pushing past the vain traditions
stretching up and out and over
wanting nothing
but to follow.

and the few grew into dozens
and the dozens into hundreds
spread across the fields and outward
rooted deep
no two the same.

the yellow house

the juice box was mushy from the condensation
and crushed under the pressure of the straw
and the ants poured from the cracks in the sidewalk
up from the mountains of sand-
they charged the roly-poly bugs
and gathered around the cookie crumbs
and the fruit punch that dripped on the concrete steps,
while I captured crickets in a paper cup
and listened to them jumping-
spring into the side of the Dixie fortress
till they stopped,
and I feared they had run out of air.

I hung from the branches of the red maple
and dogwood trees
and wished I could sit there forever
with an orange.
I rolled down the hill in my pink and white sundress
now permanently grass-stained.
I planted the tulips.
I waited each year
for the same, reddish-pink to emerge from the ground.
They still bloom, by the lilacs
hydrangeas and roses
the crocuses, daffodils, irises, peonies-
all of them grow in the place they were planted
but I cannot see them.

I'm gone from that place.
I'm gone from the house and the yard and stairs.
They're there in my place now
and they see what I saw
and have no idea what all of it means.

missing

because today I slept late
and woke feeling sluggish
and achy
and you weren't home
already out,
doing whatever it is you do
and I wondered about that
for only a minute
until it made my head hurt

because the coffee was opaque
and I couldn't work up the energy to make more
afraid that I would make too much
or not enough
if you were to come home and want some,

because the sky was blue
and clear
and the day called to me
"go for a walk, get some fresh air."
but I answered back
without making noise
that I hurt too much
would not accomplish enough,

because the leaves rustled,
tumbled down the road
and the trees cast shadows on the walls
and I hid from them
not wanting them to see that even they-
rooted to the ground
were doing more
and moving more
and changing more than I,

because it was five o'clock,
and then it was six,
seven,
eleven,
and you still weren't here
like you hadn't been here yesterday
and the day before
and the day before,

because people called
and sent me notes
and tried to appeal to my common sense
and non-emotions
to convince me that everything happens for a reason
and that I would keep going
whether I wanted to or not,

because of all of that
and because you were the one person
the only person
who could have
would have brought me some relief
but didn't-
I will hide from the trees again tomorrow
and the next day
and the day after that,
until they don't scare me anymore,
and even then...