Still Here

I was one fear closer to here

lost in a night too dark for sleeping

was it me on the ledge        or was it you

whispering

                                                               

                         don’t give up too soon

don’t give up

too soon                                                                                                                                                                                              

when I am breaking           

I am a fool

where do I stand

I am a piece of stone mixed in

with all this sand

                                                               

yet full of proof

of what died         

with you

                               

                why did you bring me here to my cyclone second

when rage engulfs this bridge from earth to heaven                    

cinder through and through                                                                                                                                        

you ask too much                               you do

for one whisper like the hint of water splashed on embers  

for one storybook of dreams with its message tethered 

to the fading metal moon

the sun  it can  be cruel

now that I gave too much                 too soon                  

  

Is this your plan

is this your one    

your great             

your smoky last demand  

or

my intention

my blue-flame doom

because

burned across my heart your forgotten message

the language lost in time with the words rewritten

resuscitate the girl she is out of breathing

collapsed under the hope she could not believe in

the soot was in her eyes she could only cry

was this my one great truth

did I give up

                too soon?

The Last Rationalization

to remember is to 

fall

memory the betrayal of

what decorates the 

hall

a collection of explosions

kept

in an open jar

Bereft

Yes you were a picture in a book        nestled between a cranny and a nook       where I could close my eyes and see       but the library locked its doors      and I am prostrate on the floor       you do not belong to me       you do not belong to me

Beautiful Escape

I don’t really know what to say, I tell him.  Well, I do, but I don’t want to write it down.  

We could obliterate them into a million zillion pieces, he answers.  Or turn them into cartoon characters that we can erase, and then crumple up and throw away.  

I want to fly amidst the stars I want to fall splat on the ground, I return.  This could go on forever.  Fat and wore cheap suits.  There, how’s that for something?

He rolls his eyes.  How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

An excellent question, I reply.  But unfortunately there is a party conference going on.  

Yes, he says.  And no one is winning.

Lonesome

I lost my travel book centuries ago

burned the forest where you

were my favorite 

tree

You are the reality I cannot close in on

what flew through my hair that 

I mistook for 

permanency

Survival

Just when I was about to crawl out of my bed and find something to hang myself with, an elderly man wearing a clerical collar walked into the room.

I stiffened.

He held up a hand.  It was covered in age spots.  “I know I’m probably one of the last people on earth you want to talk to, so I won’t stay long,” he said.  “I just wanted to sit with you for a little while, if that’s all right.”

My finger that had been hovering over the call button relaxed when he smiled.  It was not the smile of a maniac.  I knew what that smile looked like now. 

He took a step closer, enough for me to better see his face.  There was nothing special or particularly memorable about it, except for his eyes.  Green and blue swirled together, so that they reminded me of satellite photos taken of the earth from outer space.  “Don’t be afraid,” he told me.  “God is with you.  You can rest now.”

He then patted my hand. 

I wanted to ask him where God had been yesterday, but the words didn’t come; exhaustion had, for the moment at least, extinguished my rage.  He settled into the chair next to me.  I could hear him whispering prayers to himself as I fell asleep.

Awake

I wonder what those big oak doors

are saying

I wonder if I could read something carved

into their polished lines

because I am down here searching for some

sense of believing

when God isn't sending me any dreams 

tonight