Sunday, September 9, 2012

#24

Grief

trapped in a small glass box
tattoo blue ink on my skin
a closet full of missing shoes
and pairs that crushed my bones
destroyed my feet
dust and crumpled silks and sweaters
an empty page
a blank canvas
a pond clogged with dead weeds and the bones of fish
yellowing grass
a dripping faucet
the sound of her voice no longer in my ears
no music at all
no dancing in the living room
no dancing
food without taste
her, gone
ashes unscattered
still in their urn
we're afraid to touch them

grief is the underworld
persephone's realm
a single pomegranate seed
life without demeter
did anyone think
that the daughter might have grieved too
even with hades to fill her
and mine comes so briefly
mother, mother
under the ground
she would say
is where the seeds begin



4 comments:

  1. Surface

    It began as tension
    swirling on the surface
    of a soap bubble
    a thesaurus of blues
    pinks that might make a flamingo green
    with envy, purple majesty
    the shade of mountains at dusk and thistle at noon
    a cascade of yellow like my heaven star
    red as a branding iron

    I was the skin of a planet
    in orbit around your heat
    plates shifting, center magma cooling
    so quickly I had to wrap myself
    in burning oil
    when you took your sun to another universe

    I learned to carve
    runes and scars with fine tipped
    words, ever more intricate
    a symphony of cuts, incisions that sang
    so high that dolphins and bats replied
    echolocating is a human skill
    you find every nerve
    responding if you slice finely enough

    I took out thread and needle more fine than flaxen hair
    sewing nimbly, looping colors like magnetic solar flares
    like a medieval tapestry weaver, patient as a beetle
    focused as a lens
    when the welts finally heal
    and you slide fingertips like reading braille
    along the textured surface of each story woven
    into my skin

    will you remember when I was every color
    your eyes ever wanted to drink in?

    ReplyDelete
  2. I carry our secret deep inside me
    It is a memory that haunts me
    pressing into wounds that refuse to heal

    I want a scar
    I want it big and dark
    I want it to show
    I want people to ask me about
    I want to sing its story
    I want to laugh at it
    ...because that would mean it was over
    no more dreams
    no more tears

    I often wonder how it could have been avoided
    How it was my fault
    I replay that moment
    over and over
    looking for an instant that I could have escaped
    I could of...
    I should of...

    I carry our secret outside of me
    It looms over everything I do
    and what I see

    I want a scar...
    I want to scar you


    ReplyDelete
  3. La blue (unedited)

    Painted girl, if you could
    Read me like Braille
    My patchwork skin
    Could tell such things.
    Here, this one whispers of
    The loneliness of so, so many
    Years since I have been anybodies
    Lover. This one
    Whispers that I am thirty now
    And have never been anybodies
    Love. This one
    Says that the only thing I
    Have to give
    Are my poems, and I'm
    Afraid they're just not good enough.
    This one, oh this one
    Begs for the next song on
    My playlist to tell me
    How to not lie down and
    Give up.
    This screams
    Save me from me
    Save me, save me
    From me, this one
    Says nobody can hear me
    Anyway.
    Here is a scar that can never
    Fade away, the one so deep
    I needed stitches, the one that got
    Me stuck in a hospital room
    Till I could find a
    Moment of inattention
    And run, run so
    Far away.
    This one is here to stay.

    I try not to believe there will be
    Anymore. I try to believe I'll be
    A real girl someday
    Not this ragged, patchwork
    Thing.

    ReplyDelete
  4. No!
    "Nothing you can do will ever make me
    wish away the stars or cast out all the
    secrets my pinky finger has promised to
    keep you can try, oh try, I dare you, but
    I've built a wall
    with no cracks,
    I'm sure of it."

    ReplyDelete