Child of you


Passion

You may feel it in obvious ways

How he leans in with his enveloping strength

Or, in the thunder of your chest, riding imaginary horses with your best friend

Forgetful of arithmetic and teachers who felt you’d end your days in borstel, because you did like running rings around them didn’t you?

Regretting those petty rebellions later

Then in the crisp light and imagined stampede

You thrashed to the furthest point in your mind, bathed in fantasy

A place hard to reach, even splayed on cold Mexican tile, pretending your hand was his

Even, swimming underwater, until your lungs burned to surface

It was as if, once you grow up, the way back becomes harder

Like a secret language, only known to children, daunting you with tattered reminder

The tree house of your neighbor, as you take the prescribed walk, your cardiologist insisted upon

The first rain lillies urging through Texan soil against all odds, their impossible fragility, an exquisite reprieve from cracked earth

Have you gone so far child? As to forget the combination? Here where verbena and lemon grass pummel air with magic, here where you didn’t need anything 

But the cupping of your hands with wonderment, running through water like you were born again and again, emptied of harm, full of the vigor of not knowing, the beaten path to adulthood

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f64c917f731235b5604b2779ecb5e01bMy hand

resting a top yours

the same size in our shadow

you with little feet and longer ties

inheriting portions

 

I see in your eyes

the easement of life

as if you are in slow motion

falling gently behind yourself

going back in time

I think of the local cinema

being old enough to see over the railing

a film about a man plugged to a machine

all his memories flickering in retreat

until he is a fetus a heartbeat a blip

so far back he does not exist

 

is that you?

dissolving, reducing

I watch bread rise and moon’s sink

wonder at the circular motion of things

how I slept with a light on

now you remind me

not to close the door

my chest aches for what I long to give but cannot

 

it is as if you were born of me

my longing to love

I cannot make sense of why

but you were always the only one

my arms reach at night for your surround

 

I hear your voice on hungry chime of wind

all the pain blooms around me

like cancan girls frothing their scarlet hems

I remember bougainvillea climbing up the walls

can see you with your hair slicked back from the bath

steam rising in dark breeze

 

you made a circle of me and wore me around your neck

where I lay far too still listening to your heart beat

now we are divided by wire and thread

two half-made mannequins

no matter how far I stretch

I cannot reach your gaze

it stared listless at angry waves

as they build and recede

in the abyss of your memories

Cadenza

220px-Beethoven_-_Concerto_in_C_minor,_cadenza.pngWhat is life?

but a pinch

a child’s voice garbled underwater

sinking like stone’s cadenza wish

for more or less

but just

this round

made with cupped hands

holding cream in meshed fingers

lift me over the wall

what do we discover?

in gardens walked with made

 

I have been unable to let you out of my blood

you are the circle of red wrapped around my wrist

a memory of starting point

whistling in cold pirouetting trees

I light an amber fire

to keep you from passing by

don’t stop

don’t call my name

cool the snare about my self

I may recognize

I may respond

It was ever my way

 

you had my brine rubbed into permanence

I was pricked on the thumb

the cast of fate showing me our join

a thin silver line not wide enough

to separate us

the villain lies in that ache

birthing longing on your shore

will you pull me closer

stitch ever, the bind fastening

a snatch of braid

wound like ivy to darken

descended skies

in timerous pause

Soft mouth

zsvalI wasn’t ready

maybe that’s what attracted me to you

treasured and worthless

your invert chest

the ribs of a child

pluck a chord

sing a tune

I own

nothing but one

moment

watching you swim naked

the search of sound

pines still holding their grudge

your eyes emptied

your lips broken against wait

against my still entreaty

I trust nothing

only the jig of life

in your gamine limbs

spelling out the position of

dropped clothes like constellations

curtseys before the heavy curtain

comes down on our budding ardor

I feel old

against your new

shine

I feel young

against your ancient

eyes

I trust no-one except

the first sound

flickering over your face

as I dive

through

as sleek as a silver fern

shedding its urge

making magic of forest floor

all the glittering wonderment

in your soft mouth

 

That made us three

wdfgI did not question my worth

I did not say stop this is not necessary

ego needs no increase

it is not an egg to crack and drizzle

leaving bright stain on good intention

we lived

on the breath work of shared emotion

they loved me and I knew

where afterward I could not duplicate

in any drawer in any sea

as if all the stones that made us three

were thrown too far out

a necklace reliant upon string

to loop meaning

 

she became an actress

of a stage for one

and he

continued to wander

until he ran out of doors

and I

gave away my legacy

and my dancing shoes

thrice mended, never substantive

we all of us turned to leather

under a foreign sun

wondering

what became of those three souls?

who linking arms

laughed with heads up high

thinking all the time in the world

was theirs to choose

(for D & J)

Pull down the night

ffffComing sudden

over hill

scraped light

makes one last trill

before diminishing

beneath black rock

born from ire in

molten wrath

who so ever

dares stand up

to speak truth

will taste their lash

they who fear

forever burdened with ash

it is their weft to

make pillage of attempt

they would pull down the night

forever if it were a fabric

and not the entirety of the world

disguising sight

 

Uncommon

c51e6bc5e98678539d061ac9c04667afNot afraid of the usual fears

obscurity

ageing

indifference of lovers

I bought a pair of scissors

snipped out the dead bits

threw away the glamor and beguilement

seeing through gossamer trappings

yet I am still fearful

of uncommon things

dissolution and repetitive days

adding up to waste

working in a cubicle

coming home to warmed up left-overs

hanging washing on weekends

mowing lawns iced with Ready Grow

chores belaboring chores

like sore throated choir singers

duck behind pulpit for a shot of whiskey

I do not fear wrinkles earned

or sagging parts hidden beneath thick coats

those were with me before they were

lines on my days as I sat

20 years crossed legged

eating chocolate from vending machines

watching others my age hurl themselves

from one moment to the next

like waves that meet and

turn ever wilder

I preferred to roll my own

invite the boy who couldn’t form

complete sentences

but wrote

pretentious appealing poetry

with tight muscled drummers arms

back to my whistling dorm

to break the wood we were born upon

and his idea

he was in control

back then

carrying in my linen womb

the next twenty years

I developed an inkling for scars

battle worn and tired before

my knitting bones caught up

now you can’t scare me with your rebuke

I’ve lived beyond the yoke and tenderness of youth

but put me in an office, tighten my straps

affix the gag reflex

and watch me come undone

like a latch that appears well adhered

will spring suddenly

contents spill out aborted

across washed floor