fake flowers in an outdoor garden I’ve buried
tracks inside a puma’s paw leading outside the cave
my hands place glass beads beneath your naked feet
crush and drink the blood
tacky paper for trapping wingless appellations
where many thoughts stick then expire
rather like the spider spinning threads too thin for binding
I am here, always in your black places
thinking on a bridge, crossing soil to sand
’tis a fine thing to sleep construct with glass balloons
bursting when I wake
inside my lava chest, a torrent of hot ash
running the length of my breast and tangling my legs
I will return to my chilled sheets at moonrise
rebuild the span of me, you have not yet found
only the tunnel to my nightmares is wide open
back and forth back and forth back and forth
splattering rain, this redundancy of motion
the last hopeful sky un-recalled
this bleak morning, too early for the sun
a thousand immolating balls can’t bring warmth to this day
God is false hope manufactured by bible companies
angels are myths playing dress-up for lingerie chains
a broken deer on the side of the road
wonder if she knew
from the looks of her cracked torso, I doubt it
some car folded her body like a dollar store blanket
the lifeless trees are no better than emaciated throats and fingers
nothing for them to swallow
nothing to grab onto
nothing for me
nothing for us
they will remain naked
I remember you, inside me
moonlight and indigo lovemaking
tick tock tick tock tick tock
another road, same lousy scenery
silver lining lately on a bottle of red and designer label
paying a bit more than usual for spirits, cheer costs
this blueless is overwhelming
the radio melodies on
gently at first
she floats into my interior dystopia
Sarah Vaughan’s nuanced soul
and I know, I will believe in angels again
Shuffling on the dry balls of your padded paws.
Impermanence, your affliction.
Hard exacting breaths from decades of sauntering.
Protesting each movement to fling earth’s weight from your mind.
The weight must land elsewhere.
No more burning up the open plains.
Alive with dullness.
You, a bitter lioness.
Working bones unasked for fractional effort.
Heart wanting recompense from both moon and sun.
Roaring from miles away at injustices served.
Laying waste to shared land.
Sour notes break into others’ dreams.
The bitter lioness will disappear.
Upon the shrinking sands, an old lion slaughters its cubs.
And all other reminders of its imminent death.
what is motherhood if not by your side
watching you my love
what is pure in my life holding by a wisp within your deconstructing body
sweet child how I need to scream inside the ocean
smack the gods
embrace the spirits
where you won’t hear my pain
these arms and legs of mine so powerful
if I could give them and live to hold you still,
carry you as I have done across these years
never with regret
all that I am
wrapped around your life
such beauty in your speaking eyes, your soul-plumped mouth
how you’ve grown these past seasons
metal-bar suns and rubber-tube moons following along your flesh
you and I have traveled so much longer than they believed possible
you grow a bit tired
your little body weary from the outside
fatigue settling some on the inside where my care holds you together
but still fierce in your heart
in your eyes of earth
you are my rock
you are my joy
not in any time
in any space
of any moment
will I ever grow tired
of your heart living inside mine
to my cousin, Marie for her beautiful daughter, Lily xo