Saturday, April 25, 2015

Pink Sheer Curtains

The sun
crossed the sea
just to paint
you, I think
with light
through my pink
sheer curtains.

The earth
turned just so
and held
to hold.
She was bereft
to let go
I'm certain

of you
through my sheer
pink curtains.

For Grace's prompt at Real Toads

Friday, April 24, 2015

Whole

Daughter,
my wish for you
is that you be whole.
Not just a hole
to be filled by some dullard's dick,
dumb ideas, or distressing
lack of imagination.
Not in a hole
shoveled by your sex;
a six feet under start.
Whole.
From your cells to your stars
whole.
Holy.
You.

integrity - the state of being whole, entire, or undiminished

For Ella's prompt at Real Toads

Thursday, April 23, 2015

Last Legs Of A Long Night

On the last legs of a long night,
I hold myself awake counting
breaks in my bones.

On the last legs of a long night,
I rock myself to sleep singing
home is where the heart blood flows.

On the broad back of the morning,
I know just what to say.
On the swayback of the evening,
I fall apart like rain.

On the last legs of a long night,
I hold myself awake counting mistakes.

6, 7, 8.

On the last legs of loving you,
I hold myself awake counting
sins.

On the last legs of loving you,
I rock myself to sleep singing
ways to make us good again.

On the broad back of the morning,
hope's a fickle star.
By the swayback of the evening,
I'm wondering where you are.

On the last legs of loving you,
I hold myself awake counting
sins

I won't forgive.  9, 10.

On my last legs for Karin at Real Toads

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Must Be Love

it must be love
this free-flowing vein
this pen prick pricking and picking
my brain
this blank paper bliss
bleeding on paper this
must be love -

cause it damn sure don't pay

Written for a friend and submitted to The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Sunday, April 19, 2015

Half

Half
of all poems end

howls untethered
from the throat

tree blued, sky rooted

undersexed
and under glass.

For Karin's prompt at Real Toads

Friday, April 17, 2015

A Clumsy Haiku

Stars above my head.
Sharp stones scattered at my feet.
Stiff neck -oh!- stubbed toe.

For Hannah's haiku prompt at Real Toads

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Caliology

Birds Nest by David Hess

The male robin sings.
The female gathers

twigs and grass
and waits for rain.

Then, with mud in her beak,
she weaves and spackles,

sculpting and shaping -
her nest taking

the curve of her heat,
the weight of her wings,

and three blue eggs.
The male robin sings.

Caliology -the study of bird nests