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The Color of Dusk
When I was a child
I wanted to tell the angels
invisible in their gossamer dresses
to shake loose the kernels of meaness
from my tormentor's heart
and feed them to pigeons
with purple breasts that
hung out in the shady churchyard.

I wanted to reach into the sky
and eat the color of dusk
for I was sure that I would
turn into something
graceful and shimmering
as beautiful as the moon;

not ready to believe that
I was forever trapped
in this deformed body
my useless legs hanging,
not about to run anytime,
anywhere soon.

Tall Windows
You live where flowers twist
into strange patterns on the wall,
tall windows protect you from
silence that crouches and
shadows that fall.

When the horizon shines just right
and the night wind blows lonely and fast
grand prayers flow from your soul
and God bends toward you at last.

©Tasha 2000

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Email: tasha@sub-con.zzn.com