Waiting

Where is                                  here I am        

gone home without you

when I would rocket from the world

out of an ocean so impossibly asleep                                     

is the rain your final call

because I am wondering what this was for

           

why you ever loved me

why you do not anymore

there is no witness here

only ghosts of words that nudged into breath

the shape of a fool      shivering and wet       

your blanket thrown over the bed one cold night too late

 my eyes, heavy with dreams 

but you—                  

very much awake

how I welcomed the chance to be wrong

to never ask why you had to leave

why you had to come at all

was it to drift away from this eroding shore

or was it

not wanting to be sorry

not wanting to be felt sorry for

one last secret for memory to keep

Now our half-truths ship out

under cover of a cloud-filled sky

the sun you once spoke of

never any friend of mine

                                   

can you feel it rain

can you?          

The View From Inside

You can’t want to be inside of those walls,

I protest.

It must be boring, and so lonely.

Boring, no, he says, because I still have

my mind.

Lonely, sometimes.  But I wasn’t made to

feel much.

I could ask what you were made to do,

I reply.

But I don’t think I want to know.

Surrender

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.  From how it barely cleared the ground, the moving fluffball also either had no legs, or legs camouflaged by mass amounts of fluff.  In short, 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.

Lost

Now I whisper to the wind about

my broken heart

failing in slow motion

not a subtle art

toss the stones in the river because

I am

I am here alone at the end

Other

because just one thing I can show

and that is I am here

without you

alone

Chained

“Let’s play a game,” Alturis said.

“Let’s,” Megan answered.

“We’ll ask each other questions.”

“Great.”

“I’ll start,” Alturis told her, and leaned forward.  “So tell me, Megan Cooper.  What part of yourself would you most like to kill?”

Megan had the feeling he asked all of his victims this before he killed them.  Even so, she answered honestly, “My memory.”

Alturis sat back in his chair.  “That would be too bad,” he replied.  “Because your memory is the only thing in life you own.”

“I’ll sell it to you for cheap.”

“Fine.  Sell it to me.  Tell me why I would want it.”

“Because it might amuse you in between murders?”

“But surely I must have a sample first, correct?” Alturis said.  “For instance, when did you first realize you were in love with your neighbor?”

Megan shrugged.  “I never was.”

“Then why do you look longingly at his house?”

“Just remembering,” she answered.  “That’s all.”

Poison

Forgiveness will infect me

slowly.

Poison for me to swallow.

Oh, but how much better

I will feel.

How much better I will

feel.

Hate is nothing precious,

nothing scarce.

And my love for you,

so unreachable.

This love I have lost for you,

I never hope to find again.

Yet, let forgiveness color

my memories.

Let it color my

reality.

Because it surely will.

For now I will remember,

because one day I will

forget.

And when I am surprised

once again,

never worry—

you never need to worry.

Forgiveness will come.