The spots I'm seeing connect,
forming an image through my cold sweats.
I feel like a jest but nobody's laughing,
it's silent like the inside of a coffin
at the graveyard, only sounds are
the footsteps of the drunken night guard
playing cards with the dead.
As fragile as the first flower after the long winter,
and as I yearn to show its beauty to the world,
I am scared.
To lose it,
to have it break,
wither and fall,
I grasp the soil with tender hands and tender hopes.
Frozen funeralNecessary burialYou pushed me backAgainst the wall. My eye was morethan on the doorIt became stringentFor manners sake, I didn’t make a faceAt that vinegar smell.Knowing better is no remedy for hurt prideBrand his pink skin for the first timeDuck out before the sourA new hot shower AwaitsAt home. Or somewhere with potted fernsBreathe ReprieveNever been with such a followerat my heels. Looking over my shoulderBlurting and grindingOn my nervesFeigning understandingNo more storm metaphorNot worth the anger earned By the dark pastI clutch my secret hopeLike a sold out ticketAwakened by remembered hungerImagining fresh garden loot. Still drippIngWet(January 2, 2010)