We laughed that Christmas.
God how we laughed.
Migrant guests trapped beneath
a twinkle-lit princess pink canopy.
Two shushing kids at camp
after lights out and the wardenís
final warning. Snorting,
bellies distended - undercover
whoopee trying not to wake the dead.
Do I miss you between conjugals?
Hopelessly, inconsolably, yes.
There is no answer for this. Only a
bored catís mauling of a songbird.
If all I ever do is recoil from
this little crime called nature
I risk nothing. But Iíve got to risk it all,
risk everything. Weigh the world in stones
not cotton candy.
The backlash of fifty lashes to the back of
my fifteen year old skin. That first night
alone in the barn (fifteen miles from
Elvira Gulchís home)
Updated 04-17-2009 at 07:15 PM by ~Sophia~
I often have time away from your hands
to sit by the brook and babble to stones
that look back at me with dispassionate
Today the trickle is rather dull.
A stagnating conversation of small
sonar pings between pebbles
pale as the song of this meadow
caught in my throat. Muse, take me
with you when you drift past
ordinary. Show me legends stacked like
firefly colonies thick as the labyrinth
Updated 04-16-2009 at 09:20 PM by ~Sophia~
How many killing fields will we sow before
weíre held accountable for the feast?
Speaking in tongues we defend our collective
amens, finger the mirror and pretend
we donít read brail.
But if humanity withers by slight of hand,
and hate is ordained in the heart of man
while the earth shudders from rockets red glare
and Grace forsakes our children in prayer
will we be missed by anyone?
Some childhood memories
should just be left at the curb
along with the rest of the trash.
Rancid, like a carton of milk
with a picture of a
missing kid on the side
and a 40 year old
Best Before date.
I always thought
missed the mark.
this Motherís Day
I just wanted to say
sorry you always felt
Updated 03-21-2009 at 01:46 PM by ~Sophia~
(removed a comma)