The unexpected refuge

“She’s down!” someone shouted, but Megan wasn't hurt.  She was just curled up in a ball on the kitchen floor a few feet from where Alturis lay, his dead eyes staring at the Williams-Sonoma Thanksgiving cookbook cover.

Wishing

Back in her room, Kitty opened her jewellery box and took out the bracelet the King had given her.  For months she’d worn it every day, hoping the marble would glow again.  It never did.  The day she had taken it off she’d cried for hours.

Now, here in her dorm room, there was still sadness, tinged with the kind of loss she had hoped she’d never know again.  But as Kitty put the bracelet back in the jewellery box, she heard girls giggling down the hallway; she thought about Shruti, who she was meeting for dinner in the cafeteria, and of her classes that began next week.  She could only hope her new life would help her put the old one to rest once and for all.  

Doubts

why did you bring me here to my cyclone second

when rage engulfs this bridge from earth to heaven                    

cinder through and through                                                                                                                                                                                             

you ask too much                               you do

                                                                                                       

for one whisper like the hint of water splashed on embers

for one storybook of dreams with its message tethered 

to the fading metal moon

          

the sun  it can  be cruel

now that I gave too much                 too soon                                                                

Moving and Fading

We are the paint peel chipping,
dangling over the prickly
bushes,
waiting with an eye
toward falling.
I wonder who I will be
when I am cut and
bleeding -
I wonder who I will be
when I have
given up.

It is like the blanking of
a color screen,
the bleaching of dark
green carpeting.
Hold my hand for just
a little while.
We are moving
and fading
on and on.

Coping mechanisms

“Oh, honey,” his mother said, “don’t cry.  Someday this will all just be a memory.”

Jonah didn’t answer, only buried his face further into his arms.

“In fact,” his mother continued, “if you think about it, the memory is much more important than what actually happens , isn’t it?  Because the memory lasts so much longer, I mean.  So how you choose to remember this—that’s what matters.  Right?”

Not having the slightest clue what she meant, Jonah nodded anyway. 

“Good,” his mother answered, and patted his shoulder.  “Now come into the kitchen, and I’ll make you some graham crackers with chocolate frosting.”

Up against it

April 13, 2004

I remember this feeling.  It’s the feeling I have before/during a flashback—like I want to crawl out of my skin.  I just have to keep it at bay until Thursday.  I don’t want to do this while I'm alone.  And god knows Ryan doesn't need to deal with it.  Thursday.  I just have to wait until Thursday.

A look back

                                                       

                                                  This is my heart in denial                                                        

the scratching of the diamond

against the vinyl

I was young once it seems

and I spun your etched

reflection inside

of me

But reality is the toe breaker

is the dance

is the false teeth sitting

innocent in the glass