What happens to the peach when June
rolling like a playful child,
succumbs July?
Have we reached the bottom
of the hill?
Or do we roll onward, yellowing to brown?
Riper but never sweeter—-
Bruises from the fall bring with them
new hues
Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 10:44 AM UTC
husks of air pass
the shelled yellow left in fields
lake water like a bath that once
washed worries away.
this dry that takes my throat,
I ask it to tickle my cheek,
caress my soul,
embody the years passing me by.
Be my keeper of gone days;
I will carry you in whims yet-to-be.
Aug 13, 2020
Aug 13, 2020 at 7:19 AM UTC
I have the worst habit:
swallowing life experiences
instead of savoring them
then afterward,
when my teeth are clean,
thinking, “That’s it.”
And wanting ever more.
Aug 10, 2020
Aug 10, 2020 at 11:38 PM UTC
A whiff of You on my collar,
drifting towards the door,
in the spaces you graced.
My lungs take you in like my own cells.
You understand my distant nature,
worries, faults, evening regrets
Better than I.
Our bodies hold us at skins length.
When you leave, your scent embraces me—-
closer than a hairbreadth.
So go.
Aug 8, 2020
Aug 8, 2020 at 3:41 PM UTC
I do remember the you of long nights
fuller hair breathy words,
motherly incantations.
At the **** obeyed its rhythm until
like my first kick, stretching the stomach lining
I spoke. Long dry at their cusp,
my lips breathed their own life.
Still weighed with wet earth,
drifted from winter to spring days
hair flyaways white laces Streaming —-
an untameable-robed-in-rough-overalls
creature (shirtless, sun on its back).
Inkling of rebirth called like the late-night
“Dinner! Wash the mud out your nails”.
Watered with pithy drops of soul,
I spit. Turn to a dried maroon prune.
****** the blossom from your cheeks.
Bury my toes deep deep deep
in the garden bed:
(Seedy little things, remind you of my infant hand).
Lament the days lost
in misunderstanding.
Each garden whim rode
between my summer scales, yet
I shed them for flight.
If only I knew my wings are in the time capsule
that you long to give me,
grounded in your earth with
hand-me-down tales,
colossus shoes to grow into,
and motherly love like a well.
We cry dry tears,
leave our throats like
filaments of ancient fireflies in a jar.
I do love you
and always will, so
let the seasons cycle back again.
Aug 6, 2020
Aug 6, 2020 at 8:18 PM UTC
fleet bare feet on tile floor
cold.
liberating.
Tip our toes into mythic water
pooling
in the grout.
puddles are mere puddles, after all.
Aug 6, 2020
Aug 6, 2020 at 7:41 PM UTC
hand me that one—
To hold in hand,
whisper my heart
within its pores.
To share my whims:
dresses I wore
sometime long past.
I dare not peek
To peel its peel,
study the lines
upon its raw.
To see the same:
summers now soil
this time in palm.
Aug 1, 2020
Aug 1, 2020 at 10:29 PM UTC
if morning thoughts be dust of dreams,
i amble about until
Evening,
with its spinster gown,
lays waste to all the hope of day.
Jul 30, 2020
Jul 30, 2020 at 8:17 PM UTC
Morning to
another moment.
Open the shades, lighten the dark
with intention.
See the
little clouds dapple:
free spirit beings
of their own.
I want the shade gone, but
I lift it every
Morning.
Jul 28, 2020
Jul 28, 2020 at 10:34 AM UTC
Breakfast for two is true
communion.
Twin mugs full plates
the disshelved kitchen
My one yolk eyes me;
its sunny stare brightens
the awkward lack
of intimacy.
Sipping orange juice in lieu
of the morning after,
the passing closeness
a treasure all its own.
Jul 18, 2020
Jul 18, 2020 at 11:59 AM UTC