Monday, May 9, 2016


The open wound of you still gapes within my heart
Jagged edges I can’t sew together with nothing but whispers
I mock my own pain in the mirror, dancing with myself
Tipping my hat to the shadow that lingers on my bed

You spin a brilliant light in their wide-open, empty eyes
Throwing out line after line of silver tongued memories
Until they dance around you like crazed marionettes
Kindred on the surface imprinted with your same manic song

But I know the secret of every rotted bough in your waters
The dank and dark where you live split right down the middle
Laughter and tears all together, streaming from your mouth’s web
You take a bow for the cheering crowd snapping photos in your head

I was there in your blackness watching you stumble against walls
Screaming the blame back into everyone else, always someone else
I carved a flashlight from my own chest, my own beating chambers
Not realizing then, I’d come to miss the weight of my own worth

We were covered in our blood and yet it wasn’t enough to save us
Transfusions were needed but our veins couldn’t take the invasion
At least, you didn’t believe they could, so you opted not to bother
Better to stay beneath the bandage, tidy and managed for now

I opted to find healing, a full surgical assault on my busted soul
My axiom, my genesis long since forgotten, coming back in drops
Salty and sweet on my tongue, this remembering, rediscovering
I stand now, still with this wound of you, but standing all the same

Time will, slowly and gently, see you ended with delicate stitches
I will sleep with both eyes closed and breathe deeply of peace
I will dance again with someone new or stay a partner to myself
I will rise and sing and layer by layer, I will recover all of me. I will.

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Light in the Tunnel


It’s tight in here, where my breath is labored and shallow
I’m pounding my heels against a bloodied trap door
All the while, out in the open, holding fresh flowers
For all to see and admire, stopping to tell me
I hope you’re doing well, you look like you are

It’s so hot in here, where my head is under water
Running up hill, endlessly, even as I fall clumsily down
Yet I welcome everyone into my hot air balloon
Soaring over the city and saying breathlessly
How lovely it is for you, up here in the freedom and fresh air

It’s crowded in here, where all my thoughts throw knives
So many brutal edges and conversations, I can’t get a word in
But still, I gather the gawkers and seekers into a circle
Passing the oils and sage around, each saying softly
Isn’t this peace delicious, better than romance and wine

It’s impossible in here, where opportunity seems dead
Doors welded shut by rust from decades of doubt
And yet, screaming, I cast out a spider’s line of silk
Barely daring to believe that out there, one day, it will be better
Better even than flowers and romance and peace