Poetry

Day Eight. Fire found its feet in the coals of yesterday’s ashes Nestled amongst the darkening stones With a greater reverence born from dependence Between the one who needs all and has nothing And the one who has all but gives nothing Folded in on what can never have a life of its own This is an implosion of eternity This dying ember cannot be awakened By the words carried on whispered winds Only the hands brave enough to reach in And bear it upwards from the forgotten flame of yesterday Into a new lightness not born From the consumption of everything in its wake But from the kindling of hearts that bring new light

Day Nine. The sidewalk is lit like fairy circles under a full moon, But the spaces in between are darker than the deepest deluge. It is in this space, between the moment of whispered words Held in the bitterly cold night’s breeze saying Let there be light; That I find myself staring at you. Moving quickly by, briskly marching to the beat of an unknown cacophony Like the heartbeat of a thunderbolt, your heel crushes the ground. Step after step draws you closer to me. I feel my earth quake and the air tremble as the space grows smaller Until you are right before me like a hurricane making ground. The tension in the air between us as the eyes of this storm Share a sudden and incalculable gaze Your eyes were the darkest shade of azul. A storm brewing in them, that once released could never be stopped I swear I could smell the scent of Petrichor on your breath. That moment in the eye of the storm where we passed one another In the darkest of spaces between the light of this earth I knew you as the destroyer of all things the earth had made in me I saw deep inside of you as you looked into me I could see the smile in your eyes and the smirk on your lips Somehow I always knew it would end like this. With the silence of a storm and a solemn shared stare, As the void of you, that claimed power over me, saw through my disguise And knew only me; knew of the guilt in my heart, and a forked tongue held behind clenched teeth. The words lingered there as well, Without ever sharing a word, our worlds where made whole Bringing back full circle where my beginning made their end. Our eyes spoke of failures neither of us could forget. Your eyes cast across that darkness and shook me to my core And in that darkness the final sonnet of sorrow sung from the dust of me: I am so sorry.

Day Seven. The way the water rose to me was more than a ballet of perfect harmony It was the ballad of a Thursday lost in Monday’s news, The unprinted page of a love note addressed to you. Never was a song more sombre than the taciturn sparrow afraid to sing- but on that day that rang out a glorious rhapsody the burden of the unsaid was ransomed from me.

Sorry forgot to put up Day Six last night! Here it is! The birds sat perched on tree tops that never registered their feather weight But still, I wonder Do birds sit in tree tops for the view?

Day Five. Found on the outskirts of you, A new being began. Born from the puddles of summer rain; Constructed from the petals of May flowers; Lost in a season not of its own kind But of a colder climate that strips beauty By the roots and plucks petals placed on eyelids Like coins for Charon on a cold winter day. This deification of displaced days Is lost in the blur of a summer breeze Caught in the heart of a winter waiting on change. But without a place to lay their heads The tulips bow under the weight of a season Celebrated too soon.

Day Four. I dreamed today you died. the hollowed out belly of the earth was not a great enough grave for you. Tulips with streaks of unknown hues planted in every corner of the world just so every time I saw them I knew it was a part of you.

Day Two. cage confined and cradled tight the canary couldn’t find the voice to sing as the woman wrapped in wrinkles kicked the cage again sucking in on violent air that ends a voice before it begins. ashes tapped into the maw of a porcelain tray brought to lips again a kiss of death placed upon your own lips with a falsified promise to be made new. the canary lost its voice in the labyrinth of the woman’s smoke so even when the cave comes crashing down the canary could only let out a smoky whisper to lead their ghosts down the tunnel’s solitary way where once was solid, returns to the unformed void.

Day Three. she never knew what her summersong sounded like until the drifting harmonies where swept away with the fallen leaves like old headlines faded on newspapers smeared by autumn rain that unlike spring brought a downpour with no pretense for blossoms

Day One. Trap snapped shut Bones crack like the crackle of fire Hair bristles like a soldier’s salute to the grave Arms folded like American flags Trying to pull in the pain Gathering it slowly like a child to your chest Cradle this cacophony of chaos Like a bullet ricocheting in your brain I am the fox with barred teeth under snarling lips Peeled back like onion skin from the bone white beneath With frantic eyes and fearful heart Waiting for the hunter to find me.

The robins came in the rain To take the worms away. Mother told me they were drowning And the birds lent their wings For a rescue mission That taught the creatures Of the earth, what the sky Felt like beyond just a dream. That the robins whisked them away From mud puddles deeper Than the well I watch Father dig That seemed to stretch from earth Back to sky all over again. Mother told me worms couldn’t swim Because their arms never grew right. Kind of like how I never grew right. Will the robins save me When the waters come too high? Of course they will honey, And they will teach you to fly. ...