11-3-2012It was the shattering of glass,
And the stain of wine on her hands
That beckoned our leaving.
Open wounds laid out on the carpet.
Pitch dark, blue-black love
As a stigmata on our palms.
Fermentation and condensation
Served a dripping eulogy to our
Conversations as the bottle wept.
What a pity to see it
Left out to become vinegar,
And leave a bitter taste on our tongues.
We blame our mothers, and savor
The memories of their wrongs.
Woe unto us, double-crossing
Ourselves, and seeing the blood
Dripping from her talons.
We abandon, as we have been abandoned.
Our mouths too thick for excuses.
IIThis has caused me to pause.II3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My motor mouth caught on you.
Each heartbeat, each
Breath is a weighted comma
Between the spaces of the
Letters that spell out your name
And the place where I fit between them.
My soliloquy silenced by
Calloused hands, and every thing
Becomes muffled in your body.
Rinse and RepeatI danced in the blood bath, theRinse and Repeat3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Visceral path of my brothers before me,
And I carry the sins of my father in this
Sunken sternum, tapered in youth - bearing
The feminine future in the inward slope of
Collarbones, and the slimming of my
Muscles into something stronger to tread
The waters of this adolescent river.
In the humidity we glowed, swallowing
The sallow sinking sun with gaping,
Open mouths - the fledging call.
The paternal hush, hands raised to quiet
These hungry, heaving mouths.
A rivulet, red or sanguine, tracing tracts
Over my flushed complexion.
This echoing cavern, my tin can
Rib cage was a brittle barrier for
The softly cooing, resting dove that took
Its refuge beneath my lungs, and fluttered
Restless when his hands pressed down.
Callous fingers making their mark on
My previously unmapped trails - they
Are shaking anxious in the side seat.
A short glance, and the accele
Clovelly BeachThere is not any sandClovelly Beach4 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
On this beach; it's just stone
In a thick gray-white strand
With a blue undertone,
And an iron-red cliff
That has been overgrown
With thin grasses made stiff
By the sun. The seesaw
Of the surf, like a biff,
Can crush stones in its maw
And then toss them out, fresh,
Having rubbed out each flaw,
With the smoothness of flesh,
Every rock is reborn,
Nested tight in a mesh
Of seaweed, and kept warm
By a sprinkling of dust
Made of silt and the fresh
Taste of salt. Each wave's thrust
Sends a mineral scent
On a sweet exodus
From this beach made of stones
And the smoothness of bones.
AshesI thought of youAshes4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In the bread aisle of the supermarket because
They had those little white rolls, the
Ones you used to take to work in
A Tupperware container.
I thought of you
By the window tracing raindrops
Making frown-lines down the glass -
You always liked the rain.
I thought of you in the car, with the silence
Pressing thick cotton-wool wads against my ears
God. If I put the radio on, surely a song would
Remind me of you
I leave your ashes in the red
Lacquered box on the mantelpiece afraid
To scatter and frag-
-ment the memories that are rolled
Up neatly in my mind like Sellotape.
Is there a way I can let you go
Subconsciously, in sleep perhaps, so that
One February morning when I wake I won't reach for the
Warmth of your body that is no longer there no longer anywhere no longer anything
And I will wake alone and free
And not think of you