Thursday, September 18, 2014

Dahlias Dying

I dream of dahlias dying;
wake up half past late
and a quarter from crying.

Every joint is grinding.
Every bone is an ache.
I dream of dahlias dying.

I have a fear of flying.
I hesitate to medicate
till I'm a quarter from crying.

I have a fear of flying
and becoming what I hate -
a dahlia dying.

The work of untying
all the knots of me you've made -
all the talking and crying

I'm finding
to be a waste.
I dream of dahlias dying
and wake a quarter from crying.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Ceasefire

When no one is neglected
but myself
and everyone is satisfied
but myself,
I sometimes call a truce
with myself.

Ceasefire.

Only then do I notice that my thighs
are trembling silk,
and my eyes capture green
in certain light.

But my ardor for me cools
quick as shower wet skin,
and, hair wrapped like a swami,
I can easily crystal future hostilities.

Self and love is an uneasy alliance,
and even temporary tenderness is an art.

I'm no artist, yet.

For Grapeling's Get Listed at Real Toads

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Privacy Of A Dog



Today,

I was photographed and fingerprinted at the bank,
videotaped buying tampons at the grocery store,
and tracked by GPS through my iPhone.

I left emails floating like angels in the cloud.

I received recommendations from Amazon,
suggestions from Netflix,
and friends from Facebook.

I must be safe and somebody, now.

Eyes covered -
the privacy of a dog.

For The Mag

Monday, September 15, 2014

Soft Science

Sampling the cells
of your sweet science.
The chemistry of skin.

The sweet heat calorie
of a kiss-

wet equation of a wish.

For Open Link Monday at Real Toads

Sunday, September 14, 2014

How To Bear The Blue

Squinting is impractical.
An eye-patch is doubly impractical
unless you are a pirate.
Not a pirate?
Then spread yourself wide as the drum major's cape,
and let trumpet trills
thrill you / fill you
with fat, unmuted September.
Leave August shades to the flute section
and the threat of October to your dreams.
Don't be that awkward stillness that stalls the wave.
Throw your head back and scream.
It's the least you can do
to bear your share of the blue.

For Grace's prompt at Real Toads

Friday, September 12, 2014

Ratna Dweepa



Can't hear rumors of a modern world -
mud in my ears.

I dig all day to eat -
mud in my teeth.

Dig for bits of colored glass -
mud in my ass.

A share of nothing there -
dead on my feet.




Note: Ratna Dweepa (Island of Jewels) is the Sanskrit nickname for the island of Sri Lanka.  The wide variety of gems found on the island have been mined for at least 2500 years.  For the most part, the mining process has remained unchanged.  Even today, most mines are small, community efforts. Miners work from dawn to dusk in exchange for food and an eventual 3% share of  any stones found.  

For Margaret's prompt at Real Toads

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Coming Out

I told you I loved you
and assured you that it didn't matter.
"Your skin is your own,
and a heart beats as it will."
But I could feel

you curl back from your truth,
and I'm afraid
that you mistook

the ghosts in my eyes
and all that's wrong with me
for something wrong
with you.

For Izy's prompt at Real Toads