Empty space


Will I go back in time? 

Wet stockings, drying like chapped hands on weazy radiator

Your disapprobation, her disinterest, parents who

Took poorly to the role

And I, their disappointment

Not strictly failure

More a damp root, a smell of mold

Reminding them of empty spaces within themselves

I lay, hot brow, empty handed, slack mouthed, dearticulated by illness

Briefly relieved to be cut loose

And years passed overhead without sound

Tiny dancers on the globe turning time

Until they could not be certain, of ever having had

A child

Nor was I sure, I had been born

Such is the potency of separation

We can remove ourselves to point of extinction

And now I may return, the Archer retracing steps

With fine lines and trembling notion, mangled by distance

They cast every doubt in nets of resentment

No doubt it was a relief not to attempt a role

Illsuited to 

People without need

We forget

Going home is often empty

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IF

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If depression were a shadow

when it is my shadow

waking me up with glass behind my eyes

replacing authentic feeling with

stifled, muffled, agonies

depression tells me; don’t get your hair cut

the hair dresser will stare too hard and you cannot

bear to be scrutinized as your father who called you

many things like plain-faced and ungainly but most of all

stocky leading to a starvation worthy

yes that father who because of his own mental defect

could not really stand long in the sun of parenthood

you’d have been better off loose and lopsided

with latch key children

to climb dog piss stained trees that barely held your weight

as they pushed through concrete with white pealing hands

as city green must

an effort make

we would chew on wild rhubarb, give ourselves stomach aches

eat dandelions and wild plums and share a precious few

hard-boiled sweets sticky in our pockets

some turned our mouths the color of tar

behind the corrugated iron where bombed out houses

stand like disfigured moments

collapsing in tombed neglect

we chased skinny wild cats and built fluttering camps

fortresses around destruction and sadness

something I learned to carry inside

when I sought to travel far from the city

its anonymous bricked faces

lending little grace

when I said goodbye to prefab family who

had their own lives

I was an appendage

needing to find my tribe

instead inheriting faulty DNA

tingeing my wake with sorrow

much as I tried

even on the warm days I wore leg warmers

pretended to be auditioning for FAME

when I ordered a hot chocolate and watched curling waves

change sequined shoreline in slow swell

though the world amassed around me

glorious and glittering like water touched by fire

as bleating sun dipped low against horizon

I could not find a way to feel unburdened

or climb aboard the impulse to slough skin

care nothing of what others would say

try hard as I could to become

laughter

that ephemeris

out of reach … thing

Children with no reflection

girl-fishingMy feet were always too big for vintage shoes

granny said

girl you’re outgrowing your ancestors

measured my 1980’s girth with pokered face

disgracing corselet historians with modern gait

I never was the black-eyed-girl of my father’s heart

his own ungainly DNA bore him a chip off the old block

who knew his self-loathing would rub free like lint

on the broad shoulders of imperfect kin

you’ve no delicacy in your frame girl

your hands are too wide for these kid gloves

you cannot fit into the stays and confines of the past

where did you come from? changeling?

half and half in one world and the next

part girl part boy part aberration an inverse

it was easier to steal a pair of dungarees

climb the old knobbly willow tree

dropping apple pips in indigo pond

a disappointing girl with one eye patched lest it wander

I saw my delicate mother and her child’s form

rush like a dancer into applauding future

gone from those who would love her best

she left a horse hair brush that smelt of her skin

and I did not know what to be

standing there with my unliked shell of pallor

a mockery of fallen relations between two lovers

retreating to the verge of attention their child

I waited until nobody expected me home

muddied, stained and bramble scratched

children with no reflection

if you asked me then whom I loved the most

I would have pointed to the owl

grand in his luminous white feathers

for he saw the little girl’s disappointment

and together they sang

low into night

to beckon timorous vole

closer

Borderline shore

new9I am not yet indifferent to you

but when that day comes

and it will

the memory will not touch me

or cause disquiet

it will be as if you had never existed

a fracture in a line

disorder in our palm

all the things we thought precious

went up in the fire

you lit

what did you expect?

dead people don’t attend funerals

I left behind your ash and your cane

I stayed the part of me that had been driven mad

by your waxing and your wane

she can retrieve the broken parts and throw them on the pyre

I want no more of it

your number is lost

your address a fog

I cannot even imagine what I ever saw

in the dogged creases of you

perhaps I had long-lost

my reasons for why it was you

I held on as an addict does with nothing better to do

slurping lines with pinched nostril and crossed fingers

but now it seems anything is better

than another misfit lock and key

too long I spent underground in your echo

tortured by your guilt and misery

I wondered

can I advance?

without the shackles and weight of years

can I undo the harm you piecemeal? or will I remain

a prisoner?

rotting behind your indifference

then I recalled

how you made me feel I was wrong

not to be beside myself with glee

as you and your weak blend of madness seemed

surfing your mercury with divination rod

I had thought this was true but it was another of your lies

you are the saddest person I know

I do not need to be happy all the time

to enjoy the sun rise

I was never caustic liquor

I ran a little lighter

didn’t need to own the world

to feel a tinge of pleasure

it is my way and now you cannot condemn me

as every day you stuck another splinter between my ribs

sealing me in boxes, sending me on my way

I hadn’t known you were fond of sticking pins in dolls

until they woke me from sleep and I took them out

each hole you made needed repair and some of me

will always find it hard to float without leaking

but anything is better than sharing time with a captain

piloting doomed vessel, short-sight rubbed raw

seeking ruin against borderline shore

Used to

938271-4096That time

I cut my hair with rusty sheers

just to avoid

hurting you

easier to take it out on myself

rejection makes me a fool

this time

I cut my hair properly and it looked

better than it had since my eyes

did not require to appear full of hope

you always wanted me to keep it long

so I could not see my way out

I stayed

far too still

warm in the notion

you cared

when you had left

long before

and the chill

became something

I was used to

That’s all it took

friends-girls-lesbian-love-favim-com-302190_largeIt used to be a week

before she would ache

for the remembrance

and fold clothes ever tighter

around her shrinking

it used to be a matter of days

she could hold on to hours

turn them into coping

as if the weather were not

a vein throbbing her in heart

metriculating temperature

turning her ever colder

it used to be and now it is not

it is a moment

that’s all it took

before she turned to ice

and shattering

became nothing from so much

that is the feeling you hold

burning your balance in calf skin slippers

when love colors

and then removes

like a sudden bird

lifts from encroaching thaw

Pyres of intent

thToo often hearing the words, moving despite them, closer to harm

for creatures who learn early, love comes with a burn

take it away, repair nothing, leave the year a ring in wooded recall

teach the child the brittle end, let her expect rejection as her pinnacle

you made a tragic art form, blown glass with foggy lies

years spent in devotion count for less than bags of garbage when tepid hearts decide

“we’re over you we’ve used the last drop

it’s time to move on

we won’t idle in the odor of regret

we don’t know how to feel it, miss it, hurt

we are the savagery of after thought

the futility of error seen when all is done

we are the person you poured everything into and found was made of holes

no more able to contain than pages of a story left to drown”

you are cold that leaches in through unseen cracks, til rooms are bare of comfort

sharp motions in night when strangled by insights fury come too late for action

rise of sorrow on a day leached of light, the deepest cut out of sight

you are the sting of salt on eternal wound

sky without the moon closed to bereavement

a generation of rebuke playing like tindered sticks in my head

the one violent regret impossible to mend

you stand vain and empty with everything and nothing

would that I could pull down the sky and wrap you in its void

retrace the steps that led us to pile choice upon choice in anguished folly

I’d swap us for each other, you’d stand in mud, sinking beneath your sorrow

now try to run, better we stay and feel the aftermath bathing our faces expressionless

like the snow from Hiroshima or dust of moths wiped on old bulb

flaking morsels of battle where only one had a sword

you will own your mistake as I shall reinvent my regret

the next time I’ll bring to the table a half struck match

and you, if you are combustible, we shall make pyres of intent

let you turn to cinders before you ever drove the blade in