In this world

Did you

                hold on                  to me

or did I reveal

my banshee soul                  to you

so much make believe

I trusted you         to know

to understand why

one must never

weep

silence a mocking foe

shrouded               in hope

I was waiting where did you go        

you cannot say and I         I just do not know

from way over there

you do not echo anywhere

I am so

lost

the deadliest place is no place new at all

this makes me sad               nothing I haven’t been before

this makes me wonder                        nothing I haven’t feared before

this makes me afraid to sleep with the door

closed

to remember is to fall

memory the betrayal of

what decorates the hall

a collection of explosions

kept

in an open jar

because you let go

you let go

this makes me remember                   everything you forced me to know was true

this makes me walk away                                 from everything that reminds me of you

you could not       hold on

and I     

now I am gone…

Displaced

Kitty’s eyes fluttered open.

“Kitty,” the King said softly.

She turned toward his voice.  Looking confused, she asked him, “Where am I?”

“In the castle,” the King answered.  He glanced over at the doctor.  “Do you not remember coming here with us?”

“I…I thought that was a dream.  Am I still dreaming?”

“No, I am afraid not.  Your brother Jack brought you through the window in the desert.  You have been very ill since.”

Now appearing more scared than confused, Kitty pushed herself up a little.  “But I can’t be here.  You said that if I ever came here again I’d die.”

“Thankfully we were wrong," the King said.  “You just barely survived.  You have been ill a long time.”

“How long?”

“Many days.  We are not sure how long you were with the Prophecy before that.”

“The Prophecy!  Why was I with them?”

           “Jack brought you to them,” the King answered.  When Kitty frowned, the King squeezed her hand.  “We need not speak of that now,” he said.  “What is important is that you are going to recover, but that you will need a great deal of rest.”

Kitty could believe it, because she felt terrible.  She held her free hand against her forehead; it was pounding something awful.  Worn out just with the effort of sitting up, she sank back into the pillow and closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of the open fire—the aroma of the wood aroused her memory.  She had forgotten how good that scent was…

Kitty bolted back into a semi-seated position.  “Wait a minute--I will be able to go home, won’t I?”

When the King did not immediately respond, Kitty looked at over the doctor; the doctor, however, only lowered her eyes.  Kitty turned back to the King.  “Please," she begged him, "tell me I can go home again!”

The King let out a deep sigh.  “I am sorry," he said, "but you cannot.  The cells that allowed you to travel between worlds have been depleted.  We now know with certainty that if you step through another window, you will die.”

For a moment Kitty said nothing.  And then she started crying how she never had before.

Photo by C. Hornby

Last weekend

And in your heart and in your heart

listen...

I keep everything in 
the greying sky 

to be warm is a lie I lost

the reason to tell.

A lack of clarity

1994

Erica calls me a couple of days after Thanksgiving.  We talk for a while about work and debts and boyfriends.  I thought I knew everything but now I realize I know almost as close to nothing as you can get without having fallen here on accident from another planet.

Addiction

I left you                                                                    

                        I did

that was me who limped behind

who whimpered and begged as

fear threatened me blind

            but I left you

                        yes, I did

Your voice now I must ignore

oh, and it sears and it soars, and it

roars with the ferocity of a

jungle cat

            because I left you back there

            with the imploring stare

            on your face

                        yes, I did

Old truths fill the

black hole where

I buried the leaking need

for you

I know all about incurable wounds

            So much and for so many weepy and

            lonely afternoons

            I meant to leave you

            for so much, my friend

                        and I did

It cost me the ravage of an atomic rage

poisoned the air with its smoke-orange memories

maybe it will melt my blistering heart

maybe it will leave me to freeze in the

drift of its nuclear winter

when the death that crouches in wait for me

crouches close for you, too

            forgive me for pulling this scratchy scarf

            over my eyes  

            forgive me, love, because I was made to leave you

                        and I did

Once upon a time

I buried the doll behind a tree.  Just as I was arranging some sticks and dead branches to camouflage the grave, a small, fluffy champagne-colored thing appeared from behind a bush.  It had large, dark eyes, and a face so flat it almost curved inward.  Barely clearing the ground, the moving fluffball either had no legs, or legs camouflaged by mass amounts of fluff.  Its head seemed too large for its body and in general the creature was so odd that for a moment I thought it must be some kind of alien from outer space.  Only once it barked in a friendly sort of way did I realize it was a dog.  “Hello,” I said, a bit uncertainly. 

The dog bared crooked teeth at me in a comical attempt at a smile.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

The dog just snuffled.

When I then sniffled, drying the last of my tears with my sweater sleeve, the dog shuffled over and gently head-butted my ankle.  I leaned over to pet it, which the dog seemed to like very much.  Suddenly grateful, I kissed its head.  It smelled like vanilla cake.

just wait

just wait

it forms

it shapes

what I cannot 

change

it shrieks its

own language

it howls

it blows

oh but I know

I know how not

to listen

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