I feel daunted
Haunted by the half moon
I cry lonesome
Wails come out to make a monsoon
Swooning But I stifle
Clear ink runs out my nose like bullets through a rifle
Out by the fire escape
Cuz you were sleeping so soundly
you said I was wasting my youth on you. Is that your truth or just sleep talk too?
Snoring.
Like the good little girl
I ignore it--
Tracing where I been
Wanting to floor it
I take the keys
to make a big leave
Out the door sigh heaved
But your asleep.
And you are not my battle
As the wails sing out I see an ironing board under a plaid shirt's elbow
While the man belonging to such elbow lifts kids of garbage bins.
Is he looking for an iron?
In the morning hours things are much quieter.
The night sky is gel lit by yesterdays emissions.
And begrudgingly I stop all this weeping and turn for home.
When I arrive it's like I've never gone.
I light a candle.
pretend its my birthday
The mint wafts good cheer and hurray decorations askew themselves in the dark.
Twisted and out of sight
Undercover
I suspect that you'll outgrow me
Tell me eloquently that you must now leave
That its over
And your sorry I didn't see.
Didn't see what? It coming.
The haunt shadows
Like those of the wild haired young man pushing me down the stairs.
Summer 2002.
Show Choir camp.
I’m remembering it now…
a blonde boy took me
to the basement of a church.
You man.
Then crying at the prayer moon
I woman.
Now typing beside our maradi gras candle.
Tryin to calm my mind.
Not having to know it all.
Trying to bridge the gap.
Heal by the night of the flame.
Forgive and un-break.
Connect to the source.
Spirituality cradles sexuality.
Finding the goddess.
Trusting, my goodness.
