.the rabbits twitchin their sleep;they dreamof red bitten neckswet with spit,the birds dream of their eggscrackedand runny -the mice dream of hearingthat tabby cat screamas the teeth of life ripitwide open
.love like thunder;make yourself known
.in the bodyof a dead womani am aliveand kicking
.i think you know of hair wound tight round a hand like ropeof thoughts that sail in and let down anchorin the night, sleep drifting away on the black tide,i think you know of god up in the crow's nest, keeping watchhis eyes have rolled at us so much they rattle, loose nowin their pits like marbles, they say he knowsi have examined the slides of my childhood, uprooted my body,yanked myself out of my years with my own gloved handlike a weed and stared in disgust, it's only naturalthat you should still want to sleep with one arm overyour head, she said, don't you think?i think the sun lit upthe world's scarsand felt bad, hung its headthrough the horizonand cried in shamenow i don't think it's evergoing to stop raining(i am holding up my mind, i am shoving it in your face)
.he always wants the light onwhen he's sleeping, says he's scaredbut i can't see the point;i say not all monstersare trying to hurt you, at leastnot right awayand his bottom lip goesand he screams shut upbut i laugh and i tickle his ribsand then he laughs with meand he sayslove youand i say i love you toolittle man(i love you too)
.in the beginningin the bonewhite tendrilsof holy fire, the nightate away at it all,that acid tide -it ate away atthe bud in the mudand the blood,it burned their bodiesbut left their ghostsso they could beidentified -and then a wildman, a monsterpressed his thumb intothe air, he drewa cross upon his facesaid lightand nowi am drowningi am drowning in lighti am drowningin the whiteand the goldas he sitsat the end of my bedand he shouts -for somethingor someonei don't knowand i scream, god, please justlet me sleep!let me sleepin the cold barren groundof the earth,let it pull me right inthrough its mangle -and i feel a stingin the crook of my armwhen they come(and then even the wolves, even the wolves start to whimper)
.what doesn't kill youcomes back with something strongerto finish the job
.she saysexplain these thingsto me -i say the silence sort of ticks - my sadnesshas a face, think blue, think black and grey, think sanguinered, the end of may, he had a pulse too strongfor me to take,i killed it, stripped it bare, i carried it rightto it's grave - i say andmy lungs, they feel like frost, they're filled with silverlight and sharpness, rattling pips, a scream - i stayedinside my bed for weeks, i didn't eat, i didn'tdream - i think in fire, flame, volcano,resurrect you, keep your nameinside me like a splinterturning green(i could not bring myself to say yes, but i think you know that)
.i feel in a languagei don't understand,and the wings of the bird in my kitchen, theywon't get to feel the sky anymore -and sometimes doesn't it feel good?to put two fingers round the neckof a flower andsnap,hear the petals scream fortheir withering limbs,then start choking(instinct)
.he pointsto a crucifixon the left sideof his necktells me he can end allof your suffering -and i look at himand i cross my arms, thinkinghe can't even do this
.i will swallowthat white pearlon my tonguebut i'll open upfor no one
.the moon shudders;silver dust landsin my hair and i sigh,knock it off -what's your problem?i'm frustrated -i've been trying tostrike a match that won'tlight for two hours,she saysyou carry a lighter,remember?
.i remember the springwhen you did not growand our arms unfurledfor no one
.dig lifejust to get buried
.sometimes faith slowlyprises open our ribsdecides to slip outquietlyand unseen
.and they knew,they knew i'd gone -when they found me outside crouchedwith a string box and stick, singingi'm going to catch me my death,make him sick -now i sit in a gown that is whiterthan white, doesn't suit me,this ghost to myself -on the corridor bench with my kneestucked in under my chin, rattlingwith green yellow blue(i've told you, i know where i'm going)
.i disappearinto love
.i wokeon theedgeof nothing,one armdanglingover theledge(numb from the wrists down)
mother knows bestI'm sorry for the bumpy ride,I know nine months in a U-haul'snot exactly living the dream.But soon, soon you can unpackyour bags, stretch your cramped limbs,blink those baby-blues and for once-see something besides my heartand soul. Because I was never thebeautiful; inside and out type.(still, i've never tried harder for anyone else)
the truth about growing up1. It's easier when you don't think.1. It starts early,on a cloudy day when you recallthe 'childhood memories' oftwo summers ago,that's when you start your backslide intogrowing up.2. On the bright sideyou won't notice this until you'regood and ripe in age,so maybe it doesn't matteranyway.3. That tightness in your chest?The feeling that you're not readyto take on the rest of your life; itnever leaves.4. It stews in the pit of your stomachmakes you doubt, but there will be days when you look backon the mountains you climbed -the raging rivers you crossed -and you'll have a sneaking suspicion you weremore prepared than you thought.5. There's nothing like your own bed.6. Laundry will never smell rightwithout mom's sweat and tears.But you still have to separate lights from darks,keep the zippers pulled tightand the buttons unhooked.7. There is comfort in your parents' presence.8. Things changethe future gnaws and rips
.you buried me deep and called it a triumph,but you never realized -I'm a seed.
Railroad TracksYou drawrailroad trackson your wristhoping themetal-made grooveswill takeyou somewherebetterBut these tracksyou're chugging along ononly put youon a trainthat is zoomingtoward a deep,dark tunnelAnd at the end of this tunnel,there is no light.
I am the daughter of a sailor.There is pure sea waterrushing through my veins& my vocabulary can bejust as colorful.But,how do I begin to tell youwe all have jungles growing& growlingin our chests?-Wild, fierce,untouchableby human hands?Sometimes,I like to pretendit’s Draco residingin this chest of mine-his smokeclogging my lungs,choking &suffocating me.I have forgottenhow to writepoetry-or anything with a shredof feeling.I have no space left within myselffor celestial, fire breathing dragons-because I realize nowwhen I look in the mirror,I do not see my father.
Apologies to a friendYou pour your heart out to me,and are willingto submerge mein an oceanof loveyet when I see the waterrushing towards me,I convince myselfI don't liketo swim
Keep your secrets, wolfgirl.I have been suffocatingon the stars of my pastlike horny gentlemendo with innocent lookingwolfgirls at 3am- their bitefearless as thieves.My lilac lungs are breathing indust and the tears of Saturn’snameless moons,while the rest of me -well, shes warm off wineand poems leftunfinished.
You only fly for a little whileShe was just four years oldkicking her feetharder and harder,as the swingset creakedand crackedShe finally reached the peak,jumped off,and said,"Mama, I'm gonna fly."and so she did;three feet into the air,sticking the landinglike a gymnastAnd I wonder everydayif those were the same wordsshe mutteredbefore jumping off that bridge,unable to remember,you only fly for a little while.
jillianshe's eight.the girl never stops moving,climbing the tarnished metalof the jungle gym wildly, limbs swinging,eyes alightwith a childhood joyI shed when I passedthe port of twelve,thirteen.she is knotted curls,long silken hairwith infant-blond ends.her fingers grabher doll with the frizzy hairand painted face,and she's eager to winhide-and-seek,checkers,Mario Cart.I am old enoughto recognizethat she will not last this way,that she will grow,as all children do.every time I see her,she grows a little taller.she no longer likes Dora,I've learned,and I guess she thinksblowing bubblesis too babyish now.one dayshe will abandon her dollsfor makeup,leave her coloring booksfor boyfriends and college andlife,but right now,her world is simple:days in school, coloring pictures,nights at home,nibbling dinners and playing with her toys.right now,she's eight.
.green childrenforce themselvesup and outof their beds -the sun smiles,and reaches downto embrace them