The open door

By myself in the tiny guest room, I felt transported in time.  There I stood in the hallway, a little girl again, peeking through the open door as my mother sat on the edge of her bed, the shades pulled down and her body hunched over, crying for the drunken husband who had hit her once again.  Watching this scene time and again had taught me one thing: make sure to close the door all of the way.  Only then did I sit on the edge of the bed, and cry for the husband who had forced me to leave him.

we have survived the most

fantastic of things

only to renounce our immortality

I can still hear you whispering

please wait for me

Surrender

Yes, the water is cold

January sea freeze makes even the sand shudder

no warm-weather month in sight

                my molecules for so long racing

                colliding

                begging

                for the slowing

the midnight water is cold for me

this is the time

                In the summer as the ice cream bell was

                                ringing

                watched them running

                knew they would be

    all right

Some fisherman embracing this

icy body

he will find me

by my blue silence he will know

                lost interest in breathing

                this air so full of riddles and

    rhymes

When fear of damnation gave way to fear of life

                always the smoke from my fingertips

                as the flames gutted me inside

cleansed my faith in waiting

hope extinguished with

the coming tide

Because the water is cold here

and hesitation’s wounds were bone dry

                turn my head to the black sky fading

                to the moon deserting what must die

even God in his kingdom

must forgive those who

gasp for breath as

they cry

because the water is cold enough

this once

and I must

                swallow it

                swallow it

fill the thirsting void

tonight

No more debating

when there is nothing for saying

                                I will be all right

Lost

Kitty resumed creeping along behind the young man, yearning for the desert heat she’d been cursing that very morning—a lifetime ago, it seemed.  A jagged rock cut into her palm, causing her to wince. “For a king you have pretty crap guards,” Kitty muttered to herself, but he obviously heard because he retorted, “They are excellent guards. This is simply an extraordinary situation we were not prepared for.  I should have listened to their advice and remain in the castle.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because the matter was of such critical importance I felt a need to be involved.”

Kitty mulled over several unkind responses to this but kept them to herself.  They just continued to crawl along in silence, until a thin branch whacked her in the face.  She swore softly to herself.  If only she could use her flashlight!  “Do you even know where we are?” she asked, after the King hesitated next to a narrow stream.

“I have an idea.  Shhh!” he suddenly hissed, and Kitty froze in place. Her breathing sounded thunderous in her ears, as she became suddenly aware of all the tiny noises around them.  Most seemed like the type one would expect to hear in a forest at night—even in a forest from another world—until she thought she heard the snapping of a twig nearby.  

The King had heard it, too, because he laid a light hand on her arm.  Without his saying so, Kitty knew he was telling her to run should they be ambushed.  But annoying or not, he was her guide. She had no intentions of leaving him here to duke it out alone, so that she could just get lost in this bitter cold forest full of prickly bushes and sharp rocks by herself.  Besides, Kitty refused to abandon him to his fate.  Whether he were a king or a university student, he deserved better than that.  Where he went, she would follow, no matter how annoying she found the whole situation.

Scorched earth

you want to cry

but you have been dry for 

so long 

that despair has cut a 

dirt rock river

through the canyons of 

your lungs

The Dance

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

Since we tripped across

the recorded line

warped by finality one last time

let’s tango out the side door

let’s slam against the back of

agony once more

because reality doesn’t give a damn if

it makes you cry

we knocked the glass over and so

we must say goodbye

Yet if I could remember how

to listen once more

I would play your parting

heartache and store it in

the vaults of my head

oh you know I would and

the silence in your captured smile

would light up my synaptic

network for years and

for miles

if only I could sing the

words again

Yes this is my heart in denial

the scratching of the diamond

against the vinyl

I was young once it seems

I am old with your

memory carved into me

            Because it is hard to forget when there

            is broken glass on the ground

            hard to ignore the thunder

            in the emptiness of sound

Revealed

You think you know.  You can never know.  You will never know anything other than a name that means nothing to you.  You are trapped in the network.  The hallway has no exit.  The bicycle has no wheels.  If you step outside of the red lines there is nothing to stand on.  You will fall.  You will fall, and you will not even remember how to scream, but it won’t matter.  Because no one would hear you even if you did.  You are a story I sold for a million howls of laughter.  For a million screams of pleasure.  You are nothing.  You were just one more born to serve a purpose, and now you are used up.  No wonder you question living.  You know there is no purpose left for you.  I tore you into tiny pieces and gave bits to any who asked.  I did this because you are useless.  No one cared then, and no one cares now.  You are a piece of lint to be flicked away, blown into nowhere.

Nice try, but it's over.  Over.

The wall

Driftwood keeps knocking in my head
death toll for who I was
traitor with nowhere to hide
ceramic vase broken
where I stored something
and it is something
something loud, violent, and very much alive
tapped until the crack first appeared
encouraged, tapped a little more
and a little more and a little more
and smelled daylight
sent the crushing blow
Whoever thought a neglected child
could hit so hard.

This is not the person I wanted to be
this is not where I wanted to live
these are not the memories I wanted
to decorate my hallway with.