I tried to put these poems in chronological order, the first being the earliest I have written, and the last being the most recent. Have fun reading, but if any copying and pasting goes on where I'm not given credit, there's going to be trouble. So enjoy, but don't be stupid like Blackshaw... the kids from my writing class know what I'm talking about.
Red Flowers
We sit down
and I hear the phrase
“she lived a long, healthy life
and was loved,”
My dry eyes stare ahead
closed off from the sobs
they focus on the flowers
that thrive on the coffin.
Bright eyes crinkle up in smiles
and flow with tears
at the same time
asking gentle questions
not really hearing the answers
but in understanding
she listened better than most.
Now that the rest of us
are huddled, hushed, and still
I pluck one of those red flowers
and press it in my hand
to keep a memory
even though it will dry up
and no longer be alive
reminding me more of myself
than of the life that was once hers.
Little Lady
Water trickles down a dirty car window
trying to wash away last winter
but only succeeding in covering up
the cold.
Trailing a raindrop with her little finger
that falls slower than the rest
it drips beyond her sight
she’s sad to see it go.
Bunched up in a huge yellow coat
that is supposed to offer protection.
No matter how many layers she piles on
the rain falls through the roof of the car
into the folds of her clothing
and on to her skin
making her shiver.
The driver takes her hand
she wants to explain the cold
that feels like yesterday
and the rain that pounds in her head
but stepping outside of the car
into a strange sunlight
she knows that no chance of rain
is possible on a day like this
and that winter was ages ago in his mind.
The rain pours
until she is dripping wet
and shrunk to three feet tall
she’ll throw him a thousand umbrellas
to save him from her past
and act like a lady
small, but a lady
in hopes of keeping the one she loves
in sunlight.
Distance
Cigarette Man
on the corner of Flente street
even the trees gasp for air.
Feet shuffle a spider’s dance
if two multiplies four.
Smoke curls around him
like the clouds cradle the moon
penetrates his dirty tan jacket,
shampoos his thinning hair
coats a wheeze with darkness
to match the night sky.
Stars reject his gaze
overwhelmed by earthly lights
who stalk the sidewalks
in a rattlesnake line
poisoning the dark spaces.
His mouth opens to greet age,
teeth gleam yellow like a cat’s eye
fingers unsteady
pavement welcomes the ashes.
Distance grows
charring his lungs
with one little flame
multiplied by a hundred.
He coughs;
a car that won’t ignite
the speed racers steal the lightening bugs
fasten the lid of the jar
smooth, with no punctures
no attempt at air holes.
Smoke curls around the glass
hiding the cat-eye glow
eyelids sleep-heavy
lights flicker,
fade,
then close.
Laundry Day
Grab the rain,
hang the sheet on the clothesline.
It’s laundry day:
time to dry out the storm
a slippery corner
the edges cut my ribbon fingers
red blood on white sheet.
Blue is smarter than I,
hiding in the sky.
If I were red, white, blue
an American dream
maybe the edges wouldn’t cut
the rain wouldn’t fall so hard.
I hear the sea,
but I’m not listening to a seashell.
Thunder pounds in my ears
demanding stillness;
I try to soothe it
iron out the waves in the sheet
tell Old Blue it can stop hiding
behind the bushes
a head peeks out,
ears down.
I know
the tail won’t wag today
the dog won’t dare to bark.
Lightening slaps
red mark on white skin;
the sheet of rain flees from the line
I try to dim the lightening
catch the sheet
stop the sea
convince the blue
but it’s laundry day,
crawl into the bushes
where the dog whimpers
and dark skies turn over,
threaten an American nightmare.
Tree Crash
The tree crashed into me,
I swear.
A shiny amusement park token
caught the sun,
caught my eye,
winked,
made the steering wheel spiral
like a carnival ride
the top of a ferris wheel.
A Sensible Saturn
speeding on the rings of a Wisconsin road
Dizzy
You like forward?
We’ll go backwards.
Stomach a copycat
doing back flips.
Crashing feels like the sudden twist
of a roller coaster
when my stomach careens off the edge
into some kid’s cotton candy.
The top of the roller coaster
the anticipation of a fall,
is that yellow light
I tried to make, but failed.
Snow falls pink on the hood
of a crushed aluminum can
I want to stick out my tongue
get those Dippin’ Dots snowflakes.
Except I’m wearing 3D glasses
seeing red
my head light as a balloon
my neck, the string.
White Horse
“Scrub him clean,
can you take away the spots?”
Birthday girl asks,
eyes murky as dishwater
lip sticking out like a ledge.
She sees her new pony,
replaceable, like the small glass horses
lined up in her room.
He stands in the stall,
dips his dusty nose into the hay
mane falling forward
blending in.
Face the picture of new beginnings
his cheek
takes the curve of a wave.
Nose,
neck,
forehead;
Sharp, smooth lines
blurred with an eraser
foreshadow the full grown.
Hidden root beer Jelly Belly eyes,
silver that looks as if
an artist dipped the brush into paint
and flicked it on a white canvas.
But the sharper lines
definite curves
of a cloud-white horse
galloping a strong wind
outrun him before the race even starts.
Compared to Pegasus
A pony speckled in gray
small in stature,
beautiful,
will lose.
