Sunday, 30 July 2017

Falling Off



That night in Christine’s guest room it took me ages to fall asleep—only Daisy’s canine snores assured me that I was safe.  When I did finally drift off, I found myself in the meadow I could never paint.  Sitting in the grass, leaning back on my hands, I felt the warm sun on my face.  The dragon, however, was nowhere to be seen.  

Awake again in the morning, I felt bereft.  Even my dragon had left me.

At breakfast Christine set a small padded envelope on the table.  “I don’t know if now is the best time,” she told me, “but I promised Rick I would give you this.” 

I recoiled.

“No problem," she said, withdrawing the envelope.  "I’ll just hold on to it until you’re ready.”

Silence descended between us.  And then I asked, “How was he?”

“Quiet.  Unhappy.”

“How often did you see him?”

“Just a couple of times.  Daisy stayed with him while I was with you at the hospital.  He didn’t leave until he knew I could take care of her.”

I almost smiled, thinking about how much Daisy would have liked that.  But then the almost-smile faded from my face.  At least Daisy had been able to say goodbye.

Saturday, 29 July 2017

The Sharp Side of the Blade




The not knowing
its claws steal tiny bits 
until you are twitching
on the floor 
a breathing corpse 
no before or after
only today
bloody ragged today 
its pins in all of your
sore places 
as you stare at your 
own face 
upside down in the mirror
for something that can 
be turned

the needles 
     
they poke and they prod     
ensure none of the neurons 
are working             

so one small dog
sleeps curled up in  
a ball
while I
I know nothing at all
only that in the end
everything is a lie
that small dogs do not 
live forever
and neither will I 

Friday, 28 July 2017

Yesterday Visions



I wish I could be cleaner that I could stand up
I would stand up and tear
out pages that make me sad
but there is no reason to give up anymore
the dragon in the elevator is our friend
he blows smoke so I cannot see
the smoke hurts my eyes
but better the smoke than the dream
if my eyes water it isn’t the same
as crying
I do not cry
I am a bunny in a hutch
the hutch is safe
but I want to be out
with the other bunnies

The dragon is in the fireplace
I see his glowing eyes
this time I cannot be afraid
he hears the dog howl too
if only I could howl along
there are no clues just riddles
the dog only wants to be home
I wish I could help him
but like me his home is long
gone

Thursday, 27 July 2017

Intervention


For the first time since my marriage, the dragon visited my dreams that night.  As we stood facing each other in the meadow I could never paint, I told him, “You were right.  I don’t love them.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “I hope you don’t feel responsible.”

“The worst lies are the ones we tell ourselves.  But, please—do you know who he is?”

“Of course.  So do you.”

My shoulders slumped.  “I knew you wouldn’t tell me.  I’m just so tired.”

“Then wake up,” the dragon answered.  “You’ve been asleep long enough.”

With a start I opened my eyes.  When I glanced over at Rick, he was sleeping soundly next to me.  It was almost morning.

Wednesday, 26 July 2017

Lifting the Veil


You think you know.  But you will never know.  You are trapped in the network.  The hallway has no exit.  The bicycle has no wheels.  If you step outside of the red lines there is nothing to stand on.  You will fall, and not remember how to scream.  Because you are a story I sold for a million howls of laughter.  For a million screams of pleasure.  I tore you into tiny pieces and gave those pieces to anyone who asked.  No one cared then, and no one cares now.  You cannot escape what you were meant to be: a piece of lint to be flicked away, blown into nowhere.

Nice try.

Don’t tell me you don’t know
don’t tell me you don’t know

here we are and away we go...


Tuesday, 25 July 2017

Looking In


because your shame hid away
a slow game come to play again
the mercy you traded
bursting with color
and what you thought finished
only just started

Monday, 24 July 2017

Above the Earth




It was algebra class 
Mr. Wallace
I'd been gone
days 
weeks 
months.
Somehow I'd made it
back.
Suddenly a shout 
He has a gun.  
Running, screaming.
I saw him.

Found a phone. 
Dialed 911
they put me on hold.
He's here.
More running, screaming.
Outside, scattered
my feet too heavy
to lift.

He followed, not alone.
A girl.
Laughing.
Look at how frightened 
they are!

I climbed a brick wall
fell into a ditch.
The girl took the gun
shot me in the heavy
foot.
Aimed again
missed. 
Barely.

I crawled away.
Limped through a
cemetery full of
holes.
Went down side streets
through empty houses
until, at last 
almost home.

But like the boy
I was no longer alone.

The girl 
she walked beside me
her eyes queer and scary.
I tried to make small talk
the weather. 
She listened
said nothing.

Into my house.
No help.
Crept up the stairs
called the police 
She's here.
Nothing.

I am still holding the phone.
She is standing in the doorway.
Did you call the police?
Oh no.
Just talking to
a friend.
She doesn't believe me.
Why should she?
She comes over
whispers into my ear
Don't do it.
Think of all the lives 
you are about to
ruin.