Aware

If tomorrow is here then so be it

But don’t ask me to say 
amen because I

won’t believe it I won’t believe it I

won’t believe it

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

Grief

“I suppose someone has to get these things,” his mother told him.  “Statistically speaking, I mean.  My turn just came up.”

Unsure of whether or not she meant this as a joke, Jonah said, “Yeah.  I guess.”

“So the way I see it, I’ve spared someone else the trouble.  And that’s a very nice thing of me to do.  Don’t you think?”

Jonah just stood there, helpless.

“But you know, you shouldn’t be sad,” she went on, now flipping through the coupon section.  “Because someday this will all just be a memory.  And how you remember it will last much longer than the event itself.  So remember it in the way that will make you happiest, okay, sweetie?”

“…Okay,” Jonah answered.  “I’m, uh, going to go make a cup of coffee.”

“You do that, dear.  Don’t let your father near the coffeemaker—it blows up every time he touches it,” his mother said.  She then picked up a pair of scissors and cut out a coupon for laundry detergent.  “Now that’s a good price,” Jonah heard her murmuring to herself, as he hurried away.

                

Empty

Most remained here with me

I gave some to the wind                       the wind that separated my toes

but something stayed crept poked inside

mocking me with icicle whispers to

never mind the frost outside

inside is just as cold

whatever stole into my pillowcase

left me silenced

crystallized the dripping ceiling

buckled the paneled walls

I could never begin to wonder how

it came to happen

how I whimpered for it to go away     

yet still forgetting to scrape off the scent

that yesterday is a dangerous thing

this something has left my cheekbones bruised

this something has cut into my knuckles

why God has given me these fingernails                      I do not know

but maybe forgiveness hides in the mattress

maybe in the frozen droplets trapped

on the branch’s edge...

Most remains here with me

Deception

“I am not a witch,” she told me, “I am a goddess.  And so will you be, as long as you do what you’re told.”

I didn't believe her.  But too afraid to challenger her on this, I only asked, “You were my mother once, weren’t you?”

The witch smiled.  “The universe is our mother,” she answered.  From underneath her robes she then produced a baby doll--the kind little girls pushed around in tiny strollers, and kissed good night.  “You will take this," the witch told me.  "But beware: she will watch you and report whatever you say or do.  She never sleeps, and she never blinks.  You might think you’ve fooled her, but you won’t have.  She exists for only one purpose.   You cannot kill her.  You cannot win.”

I looked down into the baby doll's glassy blue eyes.  It was over.  Nothing would ever feel safe again.

Unknown

go ahead      

say it was supposed to be so

that the color of light would blind me

and the mystery of this starry night would deny me

the reason why I loved you

more than snow on my

birthdays in 

December

Unprepared

The bar was noisy, filled with people watching Monday night football.  But there really wasn't anything to be done for it, so Jonah told Jack, "There's something you should know.  It’s about Mom.”

Still watching the monitor over Jonah's head, Jack said, “What about her?  Did she burn another pot roast on Sunday?”

“Yeah.  And she’s got a brain tumor.”

Jack whipped his head back toward Jonah.  “A what?”

“A brain tumor.  They can’t operate on it.  Dad says she’s got a few months.”

“To live?”

“Yeah.”

Jack sat back in the booth.  He looked as if someone had just hit him in the stomach with an empty beer pitcher.  “Holy shit,” he finally said.  “How long have you known?”

“Since yesterday.”

"Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Well…you know how they are."

Jack snorted.  “Do I ever.  But only a few months…really?” 

Jonah nodded.

“But she still has all of her hair and whatever!”

“They’re not going to do chemo.  It won’t help, so Mom doesn’t want it.”

“What about Dad?”

“He said it’s up to her.”

“Oh, great.  He’s leaving critical life-or-death decisions up to the biggest ditz on the face of the planet,” Jack said, and grabbed his coat.  “I’m going over there.  Someone has to talk some sense into her, and it seems like I’m the only one in this family willing to do it.  I’ll see you later.”