| 2009-04-19: corona |
[Apr. 18th, 2009|11:54 pm] |
corona
in sixty-three days the people will see you
fold me tenderly into your arms as your wife,
and they will know that something perfect
has happened. but they will not know
that you sing me to sleep with love songs
and hum over the parts you forget
because it's your voice that comforts me
and not the words
that you squeeze my hand before I know I'm upset
because you watch my heart like a rare bird
that you cover my eyes when we pass road kill
because you hurt when I do
that your heart is as sweet as fresh apples
that your arms are as safe as a dream,
where nothing can hurt me
because nothing is real
that your words are as soothing as healing rain on
a broken and thirsty field
that you have no idea how much I need you
to fill the cracks
that we drove for miles so you could show me
a porch swing that is just like the one we will share
when we're eighty and eighty-six
and we've finally realized that we're not just sitting here
holding hands because we have nothing better to do:
it's because there is nothing better to do. |
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| free verse: 2-16-09: Inwood Rd |
[Feb. 16th, 2009|11:22 pm] |
Inwood Rd
in life I see gray streets, marbled
skies,
gusty evening winds, and a single
person
in a hunched coat
hands shoved into pockets
they are the only person in
this large stretch of downtown and they
are too far
away
for me to tell if it's a man or a woman,
someone trying to escape their life
or someone just trying to keep warm,
someone who is lost on the way to somewhere
or someone who has no place to go
in life I see bridges brighter than
skies,
shaded on the backsides, and not one
person
to be seen, only unbroken streams of cars
all going somewhere that they think about so hard
that I am sure I am the only one
who notices when the sun sets
sometimes I don't think life
is very beautiful |
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| free verse: 1-09 |
[Jan. 13th, 2009|05:42 am] |
I want you to remember
when you see our laceless shoes
and the hospital gowns that make us
a little less human than you
just how close you are to being here:
one grave mistake
one careless word
one well-meaning friend
remember that. |
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| free verse: 1-09 |
[Jan. 13th, 2009|05:42 am] |
I wish I could pay my way home
with tears
unlock the double doors
with longing
forge my way back to reality
with wishes |
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| free verse: 1-09 |
[Jan. 13th, 2009|05:41 am] |
one day a falling star
streaked like rubble from topless depths
and wandered into the ICU
and when she realized where she was
and tried to get away
they strapped to her to a stretcher
and the sky swallowed up the place
where she used to be. |
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| free verse: 1-09 |
[Jan. 13th, 2009|05:40 am] |
even in a place where everyone's crazy
I can't help feeling that
I don't belong |
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| free verse: 09-2008: Haskell Avenue |
[Sep. 9th, 2008|05:11 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | free verse | ] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Run Away - Staind | ] |
Haskell Avenue
the dampening effect is working its lackluster magic
on this speckled pavement, on a gray sky that is cookie-cut into
teardrops through these arches,
on lovestruck squirrels who lack a healthy fear of traffic,
on delicate petals that remind me of the silk scarf that I
bought in Atlanta, the one that caught on a brick and ripped.
a rush of this cool specter, gray as it falls as if through a
maze, drifts to me and cools me where I sit sheltered and
sequestered on the steps of a church that is not mine and watch
rain turn the streets into slick pewter
water filling the heart-bracketed "Luther + Tambra For Life" that
is engraved in the cement (those kinds of names are fitting for
this kind of city), and I smell screeching drills, and I
hear utter wet, utter cold, dripping flowers
the church doors are chipped, and (as it turns out) locked. out
here, I have all the shadows and pale light I could ever need. |
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| free verse: 2008: untitled |
[Aug. 1st, 2008|06:33 pm] |
I'm in ribbons,
laptop warm under my palms and
jeans undone and sunburns hot and
tank top straps are off my shoulders
I'm a child,
admittedly an old and sultry-looking child
and staring at pinwheels of light on the
shadowed popcorn ceiling while I
convince myself that I am not lonely
(I am hard to fool)
I'm distracted,
sinking into night daydreams of running
leaving all the expectations and sick feelings
my watch busily turns 12:09 AM and you still
haven't called and I don't think you will
I'm cardboard,
maybe that's been painted gold or something
and dare I admit that I sometimes wonder about
us and if you can take care of me and if you
would drive to see me if you knew how close I
am to completely losing it
(probably not) |
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| free verse: 2008: can't get away |
[Aug. 1st, 2008|06:19 pm] |
can't get away
cool sunlight spots the asphalt
it's a moment made for us
I think of it as I think of you
though I can't see or touch or
breathe you right now
and sometimes when you hold me
I forget that there was ever a time
that I wanted to end my life
and sometimes when you kiss me
I could collapse from vulnerability
the universe reeling
as you change everything
long midnights, brief afternoons
I know these moments were made for us
I'll treasure them as I treasure you
knowing that my world is so strong
but that I have made him cry
and sometimes when I'm shaking
you try to hold me still
making it better in any way you can
and sometimes when I'm far away
you seem to be the only real thing
with everything else the dream
glowing blue stars above the open sunroof
we don't have to imagine this moment
it was made for us as I was made for you
I'll erase all your shadows
be your hero, be your girl, be the one
and sometimes in a crowd
(this moment was made for us)
you look steadily only at me
(these moments were made for us)
and sometimes in that gaze
(these moments are just ours)
I see everything, all the moments
(the moments that are for you and me) |
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| free verse: 2008: motion sickness |
[Aug. 1st, 2008|06:10 pm] |
motion sickness
strange,
that the world above me
can be so blindingly blue that it is
almost a sunshiney white
that the leaves between it and me
are transparent, filtering the light
warm green that glows around me
that beauty and rightness can exist
when you do not
that the cut-grass canvas under my
bare legs and strewn hair
can smell so real, be so itchy soft
that I could drift into years when you
were alive but I didn't know it
that I never knew you
until you were almost gone
strange,
that the air can smell so much like
the ocean when we are so far from it
that I can feel so alive when you are dead
rushing by the world that delights and
terrifies me, wanting to stop and see it
all, not wanting to stop even to breathe
that my heart physically constricts
when I hear certain songs
that my laughter can be interrupted by
a stray thought of you, stubbornly existing
even though you do not
that I can ever look in a mirror and like
what I see
strange,
that I plunge into water that is cool on my
sun-warmed skin and smiling face
that these people surrounding me really
seem to want me around
that I can fight my way through endless
wind-whipped shadowy sunny lake water
and emerge dripping and trembling
on the other side
that my connection to you is horrifyingly
fading like the dark October when I lost you
that stinging nettles left welts on my arms
that little buds are appearing in the grass
that the roads and fields are my friends
that anything could be so beautiful
when your death is so ugly. |
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| free verse: 12-2007: Anticipating an Ianless Christmas |
[Dec. 5th, 2007|09:39 pm] |
Anticipating an Ianless Christmas
I sit in a room that is dark
(but not dark enough)
and is almost empty
(but then there's me)
and listen to noise from another room
(where people are happy)
and think about you.
I take off my glasses
(so my tears won't smear the lenses)
and hope someone goes looking for me
(but doesn't find me)
and realize that my hands are cold
(my mind was elsewhere)
and think about you.
I picture you sitting beside me
(would this box hold our weight?)
and chew a vanilla-flavored tootsie roll
(I can feel cavities forming)
and wonder if these scissors will cut skin
(strictly hypothetically)
and think about you.
I leave the room by myself
(your ghost is too shy to follow)
and tell everyone I'm okay
(well, the person who asks)
and I give the best smile I can muster
(still trying not to think about you)
and think about you. |
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| free verse: 09-2007: untitled |
[Sep. 8th, 2007|05:56 pm] |
put on "Breathe," by
Anna Nalick, for
maximum irony.
plus it reminds you to
not hold your breath,
because that will just slow
your time in this
grocery-sack womb for
your face.
it slipped over your head
the way you slipped on mittens
when you were really little
and your mom forced you;
they got the job done
but left you almost helpless.
the rubber band
that secures it
is pulsing on the side of your neck,
a place you had never noticed
until now, because it's calling
for you to
free it.
the bag shifts gently,
a crinkle too loud for your lonely ears,
blowing out as you exhale
and then clinging to your face
when you follow Anna's orders and
"breathe, just breathe."
each laborious effort
gets more frantic, as if by
breathing faster you can keep
that God-awful plastic from attacking
suctioning your nostrils
clinging to your eyelids
caressing you.
shift, crinkle, shift, crinkle,
your shrinking world smells like Dillard's.
you're sure the whole house hears
every head-pounding breath
and you press your forehead to the floor,
willing yourself not to claw away
this prison
because you know
the chance to stop being
is worth it. |
|
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| free verse: 2007: Once Stained |
[Apr. 12th, 2007|05:13 pm] |
Once Stained
in both corners of
my existence
but not really,
I am crying.
I have a lot of heavy here
and a lot of dark there
and I keep making deals with myself
"if he calls in the next
five minutes, I stay alive.
if it doesn't stop raining
by eight, I drown myself."
the deals are bogus, I don't
have the guts to do it anyway.
So I sit in one corner.
It is dark, not quite as
dark as the other
I have no bright--
only dark and darker.
amazing Grace, how
sweet the sound, that
thunder crash that
saved a wretch like gin;
is it possible that in the
empty concrete
that is me
I could turn another corner? |
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| fiction: 2007: dialogue scene, opposite-gendered characters |
[Mar. 27th, 2007|11:25 pm] |
“You're not gonna pass out on me, are you, Louis?”
I grit my teeth as the technician inserts the needle. “No.”
“You're pretty small. Last kid I had in here who was your size was flat on his face before we'd even stuck him.”
“I do this a lot.” I flex my arm, watching the vein swell. The needle is taped into the bend of my elbow. “I'm used to it.”
“Voluntarily?”
“Ehh, you could say that.”
“It's either voluntary or it's not.”
Long tubes are slowly filling with a dark, rich red. “Well, I don't exactly relish having my blood removed from my body a quart at a time.”
She takes off the vial, screws it shut, and puts on another one. “Then why are you doing it?”
“My twin.” I grimace. “He has Hepatitis C; his body's less likely to reject my blood than the blood of a stranger.”
“Ah. So it's a voluntary involuntary thing.”
“Something like that.” The tube is filling far too slowly. It's my imagination, I'm sure, but the spot where the needle's taped in seems to ache badly. “How long is this going to take?”
“You're the one who does this a lot. I'm new here.” She winks. She looks fairly young, and not bad-looking either, but these thoughts are detached observations—I haven't had the stomach to think about girls lately. Not when Nate's on the next floor with yellow skin.
“You're all set.” She unties the tourniquet, rips off the tape, and eases the needle out of my arm. “Good luck with your brother.”
“Thanks. He needs it.”
And I wonder, as I walk with a freshly bandaged arm into a waiting room where no one is waiting for me, what my life would be like if Nate were healthy—or if he'd never been born. |
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| free verse: 12-2006: what happened when I disappeared two hours ago |
[Dec. 23rd, 2006|10:11 pm] |
what happened when I disappeared two hours ago
cold pavement glittered under my
shaky legs in a long on-forever silent sea
it was the aftermath of my breakdown
of the crack in my fragile veneer
and every breath had to fight its way into
my rapidly contracting lungs
my shadow didn't look
nearly as cold as I felt
I don't know what's worse--
that I ran away again,
or that I'm so bad at it. |
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| free verse: 09-2006: bloodless lips |
[Oct. 12th, 2006|06:44 pm] |
bloodless lips
your hair streaked with silver,
you carved your existence
from words like "innocence"
ha! I'll remember that
next time I'm between
your legs
You are an old sixteen,
grown silent
all used up
the wrong people love you
you keep wishing and remembering
scars like stretched tattoos
pressed together
nobody
believes you.
nobody
needs you. |
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