Thursday, June 30, 2016

The Weeds Are High

The weeds are high
the water's low
the path is thorns, but still I go
barefoot by the firefly glow
to meet you.

North of the Southern Baptist Church
where daddy preaches and sinners burn,
where Solomon sings the sweetest words,
and I keep you

as a deacon's favorite vice.

For Rommy's prompt at Real Toads

Note:  In case you missed it yesterday, I have a new poem ("Microorganism") at Maudlin House.  Big thanks to all who have already checked it out and / or commented!

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Comic Con

I turned 45 in a Flip Joan wig,
stack heels, and a too tight dress.
My very best Homestuck's Mother Lalonde
for a day of cosplay
at Comic Con.


Hell, no, I didn't want to go!
But I'm a mom, and I'd promised, you know?
So I took my meds and kohled my eyes,
paid for my ticket, and went inside

a place alive with color and sound -
writers and artists all roaming around,
and comic creations brought to fan favorite life;
everyone a hero or god for a time.

Soon I was one of their own.  The nerds took me in,
and I understood that I'd been given a gift -
the gift of getting over and out of myself
to walk again on the child side as somebody else.

For Midweek Motif ~ Birthday at Poets United

Update: I have a new poem ("Microorganism") up today at Maudlin House.  Please check it out; I'd love to know what you think!

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Espresso Machine

When the dog soaks my carpet
(I just took her out!),
I fantasize a machine
space age sleek on an uncluttered counter
dispensing a rare roast caffeine.
And I dream of a me -
a swish of sibilant silk
and heel clicks precise on the floor.
A woman spare and serene
like I can scarce hope to be -
but that's what dog piss daydreams are for.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Sunday, June 26, 2016

Something's Missing

I skin the spoils of another's hunt.
I cook, but I don't gather.
I suspect that I don't matter much,
and it hurts.

I fall back on talking tough;
fake a fierceness I don't feel.
Fill my days with another's work,
another's will.

Crawl in bed at night
and release myself to dreaming.
Lying by your side;
our shadows on the wall.
Crawling deep inside
my land of little meaning
where I hide
and no one seeks at all

till the cupboard's bare,
the clean socks aren't there,
or something's missing.

For Poetry Pantry at Poets United

Saturday, June 25, 2016


I went sailing once when I was a girl
barely big enough for a life jacket.
I remember the sun sparking the water,
the strong, tan legs of my father,
the sleek, white lines of the boat.
I don't remember the capsize at all.

Not the fill of lake water in my nose.
Not the crack of my skull against the hull.
Not even the screaming scrambling search for my mother
trapped in the ropes below.

Years later, mama told me that her only thought
as the water took her air
was that her daughter was up there
watching her drown.
But memory is a funny thing I've found.

All I remember is sun on the water,
tan legs,
a sleek, white boat,
and I know that I've been sailing      once

and that once      is all I've cared to go.

For Gillena's prompt at Real Toads

Thursday, June 23, 2016

Poorly Animated Girl

Too long, too leggy, too limber, too liquid -
all anarchic angles aching the eyes.
Vaginal vertex obtuse and open -
charcoal smudging the spread of her thighs.
Bobble head blonde

to a doll

with primitive technique.
Nipple fixation -
pink, pink, pink
slick lips. A glimpse
of kitty cat tongue -

purr come baby come baby come baby come

baby lips can't refuse,
fingers can't form a fist.
arms spread presentation
no-ego thrust hips.
Poorly Animated Girl -
make wish
kiss kiss.

For Susie's prompt at Real Toads

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

When You're As Old As Me

When you're as old as me,
you'll see that days clamor for attention
while years
barely whisper
as they pass.

You'll see your body as a temple
with a bit of sag
in the ass.

You'll see laugh lines
as signs
that you've lived right.

A bit of Resilience for Midweek Motif at Poets United