mouths the words,
the edge of
she can’t wake him
teach me how to trust
my inner knowing,
the senses of my body,
the blessings of my spirit.
Teach me to trust these things
so that I may enter my Sacred Space
and love beyond my fear,
and thus Walk in Balance
with the passing of each glorious Sun.
“Very Yummy” —
the flavor of my painted dark-red toes
stretched out in the late summer sun.
noisy golden orange
the taste before the sunset stops bathing my skin
in hungry cicada symphony
beckoning crisp green leaves
to change into
kaleidoscope of tarnished yellow, burnt brown, and the eager ruby red scent of quiet Fall.
The Viability of Conception
Dear [Pain Inside of Me] Never Meant to Be,
I guess I never even let you scratch the surface,
although I left a cutting edge.
The point is its obvious where you came from
+ when he came–
in full cry.
A purposeful burn,
but not one that can be explained
in casual conversation.
pleased + revolted me.
You made me double-over, dolorous, grinding,
burning + spinning, but I don’t lose my footing,
I guess I don’t think of you.
Until I see someone else’s protruding bulge.
She waddles. A half-smile of discomfort.
I don’t think of you.
Others might say I should. Just another statistic.
I don’t trust numbers.
Pile it on my list of could haves + should nots–
I don’t care what others say,
but my face goes red-hot
when that toddler holds his hand.
Neither here, nor there.
Yet, you transformed me.
Dreams + Imaginations are the clouds printed on
the receiving blanket I charged on my card that day.
Nine months feels like a second,
not the eternity of speechless seething remorse
expanding against me.
I can’t allow myself the fabrication
that’s sick–isn’t it?
–what a counterfeit.
Consistently we privatize
laws, rules + controversy, religion
facetiously–you make me
When they eject + evacuate,
they leave a piece behind in my cave
there will be no eulogy
for all to view.
NOTE: ***Please click HERE in order to access the proper format of this poem.
Once again, this poem refuses to post on WordPress properly. I managed to update it correctly here, my tumblr. :) Thank you again for anyone that is reading! If anyone has any tips on how to post direct spacing/formatting of word docs/text would be really helpful!
Move on the Water
the fingers of the sky upon her wrist
a flicker of dirt breathed
below the canoe–the icy water clear–
an invisible shield–she moves
with no reflection
floating on stillness–the beak of her brother’s
red-tipped head, as he taptaps away–
a woodpecker rhythm swallowed by the
rustle of autumn branches.
She finally can taste the thought
she is sensitive, alone,
left to be nothing
out in the wood, and
it is right.
It is imperfect.
Life packed neatly into boxes
Piece by piece,
I take them out
Place them on newly waxed floors
In empty rooms
With the lingering fumes of freshly painted walls
A new beginning;
There’s nothing of me
I find inside.
I place them on the back porch
And open wide windows
that fill the room with a
Entering the new apartment
And filling my soul,
I get lost;
until it finds me.