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Poetry

Negligée

As she gazes through painted panes,
porcelain eases in and out like
the splintery swing;
the see saw with no rider
down by the rippling pond.

She stumbles, shatters,
suds smatter black and white
checkered linoleum.
Recklessly inverting rubber gloves
wrist to finger
splayed on the floor alongside
shards of my heart and
of her dignity.

Bounding toward the phone–buttery,  
her perfectly polished
index finger–cherry
glides along
10 o’clock to 4 o’clock
6 o’clock to 4 o’clock…

And through flowing florals
hung with force and
knotted with rage
I watch my mother pull away
punchy in her ‘54 Skylark.

Her scarf waves farewell to me,
snaking around her décolletage
flirting with her negligée
blushing beneath
a powder blue trench.

“Bye dear, I won’t be long.” she says

She returns with a man in a fedora, 
a hound’s tooth jacket
snarling at me
as it grinds her against
the polished hood of the car
that my father loves to drive on Sunday’s.

A cigarette through pursed lips
Smoking away any guilt
found on her slick red lips.

His pipe tickles his mustache
captivating a craving
as large as the lusting diamond
on her left hand.
 


Perpetual Night

Heavy dew licks pavement’s
leathery film, slick
as infinite drops descend,
needles, 
striking matchboard blacktop
sparking electric dreams of
near and far.

He stands in an alleyway
illuminated by a constant hum
of glowering signs
angered by moon’s glow
wondering what’s next? 
in his incandescent dream:
a midnight reality
of smog filled skies,
and torturous eyes.

The world, tinted by
cellophane glasses: not
clear, always shiny.

Days linger; cars hover
announced by glazed headlights
greeted by synthetic eyes
that could kill. 

In a place existing
as dark matter
void of time and space
lurks particles of humans
who know nothing but
vengeance
of mind and body
and call on those who are weak.  


Bound

consuming you is my favorite thing to do
clawing mind to the high heavens
that’s what I was made to do.

seated to the right
at the table where we first met
you had long hair then,
eyes full of glass beads
that we’d string binding
our loins forever.

perhaps you didn’t want them bound…

you blinded me. 
Slashing worlds, I know
to mirror yours
inhale, exhale. 

in perfect harmony
fingernails dig waning crescents,
crying blood to match sobbing faces.

millions of dendrites pace,
shooting nerves down my spine
in a finale of paralyzing
pins and needles
inverted diaphragms,
bloodshot eyes eclipsed by fear.

did I catch you off guard?
Please, carry on.
 


Shadow Chaser

I am light casting through
shimmering shadows
leaves quivering,
whirling alongside
whistling winds.

I see you,
but you don’t see me.

do you?

Small, but mighty, I am.
a rolly polly carving
cavernous colonies
dug depths deep
beneath the breeze
awaiting discovery by delicate
pinched fingernails full of dirt.

If you asked me, I’d say
I’m in a safe place.
shielded from your world
as free as my fugitive pet caterpillar. 

If you asked them, they’d say
I’m in a dark place
Lost and never found
Like the memories we made
and never kept.

and me, cheek pressed cool against clay
waiting for rain to come
wash me away and
bury me like those burrowing bugs. 

I live each day. 
watching you, watching me
wide, wondering,

can you see me?
 


Birds

Why, oh why, must
birds sing songs of
such joy?
Perhaps we should learn from them.