Friday, November 21, 2014

Fruit

"Still Life with Fruit," Severin Roesen, 1852.  iPhone image by M. Bednar.


When none of the fruit was forbidden,
I tasted as I pleased,
but none of it pleased me.

It was too easy.

And when some of the fruit was forbidden,
I got tangled in my choice
for the choicest piece

and couldn't eat.

But when all of the fruit was forbidden,
I fell fast to the feast.
More left me hungry.
Less left me replete
and choking to chew and swallow
another sickly sweet
seed and slice

of rich, ripe vice.

I'm no wiser than Eve.

For Margaret's Artistic Interpretations prompt at Real Toads

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Use Your Words

A four-year-old Baby Puppy pretending to be me

"Use your words," I tell her.
God knows I use mine.
Long, stretched out sentences
with places I can hide
and syllables to squeeze between till I
get lost inside my mess/age.

"Use your words," she tells me.
"The small ones are the best.
Yes, no, stop, go,
love you more, and bless.
If you keep the truest ones,
you won't need all the rest

to dress up your MESSage.

Mama, talk like me.

For Kerry's prompt at Real Toads.  Hope it fits!

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Driving



Driving teaches the shit and skin of it.

Road rage guy blows past.
By the next red light you're sitting side by side.
I get it.

But getting it doesn't grow the lotus.

For The Mag

Monday, November 17, 2014

Blackbird

I choked on the bones of a blackbird
you'd baked into a pie.
You pried my locked jaws open,
held me in your vise-like thighs,
and slinked your fingers down my throat
till they willowed; now they won't
unring the bell.

Star scorned ribs
Sugar skin.
Hammer heart
with the nail half in
the hickory tree dressed in a noose
swinging -

I turned that blackbird loose.

For Open Link Monday at Real Toads

Sunday, November 16, 2014

The World According To

The world according to a fly
is the picnic you insisted I
join you on
spread upon
the shores of Getsome Lake.

The world according to a worm
is churn and turn,
turn and squirm
through my eyes
buried in the berm
between the lake and the interstate.

For Kerry's mini-challenge at Real Toads

Friday, November 14, 2014

Going To Water

For every moon,
there is a dance.
For every dream,
there is a sickness.
Words are a witch's womb and water.

To fill your eyes with fire and sunrise,
face the east.
To get clean,
get naked.
To walk the wet depths,
release your father's fear of drowning.

Go under.
Go under.
Go under.

There is more than one way to breathe.

Note: Going to Water is the name of a Cherokee purification ritual.

Inspired by Freddie Mercury, Marian offers up some thought -provoking prompt / questions at Real Toads.  I chose to work with "how you think about your stage and how and why you have put yourself on one."

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Bad Day

Because I'm feeling generous,
I'm going to assume
that the school counselor was having a bad day.
I'll give her the benefit of the doubt
that dragging middle-schoolers out
in the blazing August sun sounded fun.
But telling them to scream and throw stress balls at each other?
"It was supposed to be a metaphor," explained my daughter.

Really?
Lady, leave that
to the poets.

***

Just ran across this in my drafts.  It really happened!