kissed me in the street, softly. in that moment,
a smile poured from his lips like water from a crystal glass,
covering me completely.
from him came sunbeams. Appalachian sunrise
i felt warm again
"artistic creativity escapes me"
he said
but the music that flowed from his hands, seeped from his skin, leapt from his lap--
every note sang differently.
in the street that day, my knees weakened until they no longer lent me any support.
he traced the outline of my lips with his,
and every fear i've ever felt shrank--
small, to the point of near invisibility.
Mar 24, 2021
Mar 24, 2021 at 9:01 PM UTC
the sweet summer air is heavy with afternoon storm.
the verdant underbellies of the oak trees seem to hold their breath in anticipation—
waiting for water.
finally! the rain kisses the ground. so soft.
i remind myself that grief is just love that has come up against her oldest challenger
i remember how to breathe.
Mar 24, 2021
Mar 24, 2021 at 8:52 PM UTC
pull-- the only way to describe the motion
eyes locking
coming together like planets moving around the sun
aligning perfectly
something so ancient, so natural, that it had to have been done before
a hundred times. a million times.
an eternal dance
like dust motes, swirling in sunlight
energized by the slightest movement
never resting: nary break nor breather
sort of like the sun
you see, the sun rises and sets. every day.
never tiring
it lights the way for migratory birds
illuminates the dust motes
throws sunbeams into the cosmos...
it touches the planets, who have yet to complete their journey.
gravity. the only thing strong enough to propel this movement--
the only explanation for the pull.
pull-- the only way to describe the motion our motion.
eyes locking. aligning perfectly. never tiring.
an eternal dance-- one that must have been done before.
a hundred times. a million times.
Feb 21, 2021
Feb 21, 2021 at 9:56 PM UTC
warm breath meets wet hair
muted sunlight hits his blond lashes,
and our lips touch to the sound of simple salutations
a square of soft light is a white sheet hung out to dry
his subdued snoring: waves against a rocky shore
in this moment, what is peace to me?
a constellation of freckles; an archipelago
sweet silence
trailing fingers down a naked side
he still reminds me of an Appalachian sunrise
Feb 21, 2021
Feb 21, 2021 at 9:28 PM UTC
angry tears threatened strangulation
the darkness crept up on me again and surely it would have kept me captive forever.
there, cold snapped bones like branches-- i was in my faraway place then.
my tears were becoming a sea.
and yet, out of the mist, came a figure. small, blond, abundantly bright.
who DARES to come touch me in my faraway place?
"it is i" she glittered
"it is i" she gleamed
idontknowhowtobreatheanymore!
"here", she murmured, "like this"
i breathed, once. twice.
and slowly, i began glittering too.
Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 3:52 PM UTC
to me, she is the throne that she sits upon.
they say love is like religion, so with good days on my mind i fall to my knees and remember the day we met
that day, a colorless husk of who i am opened the door to that hallway where she stood
that day, sound and color poured into me with one word: "hi"
i knew then that i would never let her slip through my fingers
everything about her feels right-- like the first breath of cool air after being underwater for too long.
i know her smile so well i can see it in my sleep.
Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 2:16 PM UTC
i just got home from work, mama
now i understand
i remember wondering why you always had a drink with dinner
now i understand
worked all day long today, till i was exhausted, and i STILL had to go get the eggs and the milk.
now i understand
walked home from the store in the dark, my feet
aching
burning
aching
burning
with every step.
now i understand
got my computer out to play music while i cooked dinner for myself, and it was dead. i almost screamed with frustration.
now i understand
this house seems so empty when i'm alone.
i miss you, mama.
i know now why you always had a drink with dinner.
i understand, mama.
and i'm grateful.
Dec 2, 2020
Dec 2, 2020 at 7:16 PM UTC
when we met, the colors and the sounds of everythingness faded away until there was nothingness. it was 11:30 and you were beautiful.
when the early morning light crashed through the blinds and landed on your sleeping face, it was 8:30 and you were beautiful.
when we went to the mountain that day and played in the sky, your smile shone so bright i thought it might never dim-- it was 4:30 and you were beautiful.
the night we had gas-station sushi and you spent hours bent over the toilet, i held your hair and you smiled a thank-you at me with dribble on your chin.
by god... it was 2:30 and you were beautiful.
now i hold your hand, cool and soft and decorated with decade-old kisses from the sun. your eyes are closed.
it was 9:30 when you left me, and you were beautiful.
Nov 24, 2020
Nov 24, 2020 at 11:40 AM UTC
i suppose i find comfort in the next life
whatever form i might take
something to look forward to in the next chapter
Nov 20, 2020
Nov 20, 2020 at 11:21 PM UTC
my cat sleeps in the sunspot on my bed. her throat remembers the deep rumbling of content, my idea of yesterday's heaven.
my garden, filled not with zinnias, but with families and friends, reminds me so suddenly of change.
my mom and dad sit in the yard-- his hand resting casually on the arm of her chair, holding a glass of water that's sweating in the summer sun. i can see them smiling from here.
i peek out the doors and windows, camera in hand, anxious to catch every breath, every moment of this day,
just in case my mind forgets
Sep 27, 2020
Sep 27, 2020 at 5:23 PM UTC