Magic's end

      

Forgive me this arrogance 

this undeniable conceit

Too foolish to understand

what surrender would mean

Fire storm

This sea                                 filled with raging suspicions

polluted by the debris         of 1000 amazing inventions

not one in which I could believe

were you caught

in the fire storm of a million

conversations

or lost

in a dying admission

because just one thing I can show

and that is I am here                          

without you                         

alone

               

perhaps                 

just as it should be

here in our graveyard of

convictions

one last night

of fading ambition

your promise on the end of my fingertips

and it falls

it falls

daylight a shade too deep

I want to know

one day I must know

was it ever thus?

the clouds mirrored in our eyes

the end of apology

the apocalypse of

us

The light above

             Cathy sent me a one line email.  It read, Michael’s drinking again.

            I laid my head down on my arms and started to cry such violent, bone-shattering sobs, that Louise ran into the room.  “What’s wrong?” she asked me.  My head still down, I jabbed at my screen.  After a moment I heard her say, “Shit.”

            “This is my fault...”

            “Of course it’s not your fault.  He’s an alcoholic—that’s what alcoholics do.  They drink.”

            “He’d been sober for 14 years!”

            “Well, you didn’t buy him the booze, did you?  He could have gone to an AA meeting if he was that desperate,” Louise returned.  “It sucks, and I really like him and wish him well, but he’s being a moron.  I mean, it’s not like this will get you back, or change what’s happened.”

            “What he’s been through would be too much for almost anyone,” I protested.  “He felt so guilty about all of it.”

            “Then he needs to find himself a good therapist and snap out of it.  Mom always let Dad get away with his drinking, blaming it on one thing or another, and look what happened.  He never had to change because no one ever held him accountable.”

            When I just shook my head, Louise’s expression softened.  “He’s a smart guy,” she told me.  “He’ll figure it out.  I don’t believe for a minute he’ll still be drinking by this time next year, so stop worrying, okay?  This isn’t your fight anymore.”

When he dropped me I fell 

and it was close, the ground              so close that I could smell the

grass as his fingers loosed

their hold

somehow I forgot to wave goodbye
forgot that without him 

I could not fly

Before the frost

There is a girl who almost remembers things.  She remembers things the way someone who is about to remember a name suddenly forgets it again.  Like sea waves in early spring that almost roll onto your toes but stop just a few inches shy and then return to the sea, as you both long for the feel of the water covering your skin and yet exhale relief because the water is so very cold.

The awareness of you        the moon creeping into your eyes

when I come home will I still feel this alone                  will you build me a ladder out of

the sky

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.