I had never been to the seaside.
I knew what to expect, though.
I had a book about it.
There were lots of pictures
Grandma had wisdom to impart,
but not everyone made time to listen.
She lived downstairs in her daughter’s home.
As she lay in her bed at night,
she listened for the beating of her heart.
Melodies stole their way to her
and rhythms beat a path.
Little black specs
Curled hairs in a pile between her feet
A tear might have fallen down her cheek
But there was no moisture left in her body
Instead, a drop of blood fell upon the hairs [pulled from her skin]
As if in an effort to mask the results of
Her humiliation
Gloria sat beside the kitchen window
watching snow fall over sycamores
What could she hope for,
some good news brought by mail?
An unexpected call?
After punching in, she opens her
register, counts bills and splits
up rolls of coins. Her arms ache
from yesterday. From pulling together
store items, piling them in bags.
Sally thought everything was
up to luck and she had zero.
Her chances got swept
away with yesterday's trash.
Margie often thought words
just spilled through her fingers.
It was all learned so long ago
by touch typing in school.
And I was listening to country fusion
Driving a little faster than I ought from the Souplantation to home
Allowing my mind to suspend above lived experience to fantasy
Funny how these isolated moments puncture my misery just enough to inspire this
It started when we stood hopefully,
with our thumbs outstretched
by an English roadside.
We were heading towards Italy and Yugoslavia
without maps or money,
or sense of direction.
I peed on a stick
…and a cross appeared.
A child to come.
A child when I was told I could never have one.
I talk about the soul a lot
The soul being tarnished and how it can never return to its once innocent state
To her it felt like a Category 5 tornado blasting through her psyche without warning
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This can't be all there is for life. But our lives get greedy.
Hill folk understand. The very wealthy understand.
You told me that you know it's too late now.
I don't know what late is anymore.
i was sexualized at work
by a drunk man
who told his buddy that i had,
"nice assets";
When I quit scrubbing our snot-green stove
he bought me a brand new range to roam
and a refrigerator-freezer that stood side by side
closer than we ever did.
Wise,
but still lost,
And so far from being put together
Joe got a cup of Jane
Give me the cliché and I’ll rewrite it into something beautiful
Something you have never heard before
That you are craving without even knowing it
I catch myself humming bits of
songs that I used to know
just to remind myself
while everything changes,
nothing changes, really.
The pain is often hidden.
Other's demons we cannot see.
The depth of struggle kept so secret,
did you know that could be me?
Check mate
My dad is teaching my beloved
Mother how to play chess.
Your hands are cold.
Your chest some sort of gracious cave
With you, the seasons collide,
and I'm not sure why..