liz-anne
American
A moment. An emotion. A thought. All of my poems are fragments, not quite complete, not quite from life, not always fiction. / / Thank you all for your comments, compliments, and criticisms; I take them all into consideration when reexamining my poetry. / / :-)
You grow a mustache
I'll buy a car
We'll go cruising on Sunday afternoons
My fingers in your hair
Yours quietly crawling up my skirt
We can tell the neighbors there's a baby on the way
But you'll say **** it all and get another tattoo
My love inked across your arm
And I'll sit amid the garden pansies
Dirt between my toes and your laughter in my ears
When Christmas comes we'll hang lights
Every color I can find
Strung from every roof tile you can reach
We'll be the best on the block
Even when the neighbors complain in February
I'll wear a blue dress
You'll take me out, best restaurant in town
An anniversary in suburbia
But we'll come home with bottles of ***
Wake up on our own neatly mowed lawn
You won't wash the car
I don't want to take any kids to school
We'll get mad, get even, make up
And do it all over again
Make them all wonder where all this began
You and I could change our minds
Go back to the start of it all
Find ourselves with barely two fingers entwined
When it was still enough just to go
For a five minute drive
Your hand in mine.
Oct 11, 2015
Oct 11, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
& somehow you weigh on me again
as i expect you always might.
once you were soft clay in my hands
then a hardened plaster when i could not
breathe
but time has dried you out
and i remember a kiss
but not your lips
i remember the lightness behind my smile
but not you
as you were, are
& somehow you weigh on my skin
dried like dust and blowing
away
while I stand, warm in this summer wind.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 3:25 AM UTC
Independent of my thoughts
I have every inclination
to find a setting
sun whose
Love
is only split
by the violent
edge of a mutable
and moving horizon line.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
I was but a child
desperately trying
to teach a child
to be a child.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 3:10 AM UTC
White light like ice without the cold
sun going down, down
down
on uncanny land
mine is not kin
but I remember lavender through glass
snow I let burn a slow
slow burn
frozen flowers I thought would last
and fear like slow
blooming frostbite
born in my belly
bred in white, white
sunlight
falling now
as it was
and I was
then.
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
She didn't know when Mary Poppins flew in
She didn't know the world was falling down
didn't know the roof was caving in
and the walls leaked
and the floor creaked
the first stair was gone
She didn't know Mary Poppins was hers
She didn't know Mary was her mother's
didn't know Mary was her grandmother's
and she didn't know Mary
and Mary is hers
Mary is mine too
She didn't know Mary Poppins meant the end
She didn't know Mary meant one less
didn't know Mary wasn't real
and Mary couldn't fix all this
and Mary would go away
mothers could too
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 3:29 AM UTC
the sound of the wind through palm leaves
I miss shooting the breeze
and you're the only one who fits
with all the jagged bits of my everything
California sunsets are the kind that encompass me
I don't mind the sort of beauty that's seen
I'm going where the sun touches everything
but I'd rather be here where beauty seeps in
where I can imagine more than sunlight on my skin
I've got a window seat and a broken window screen
and I can hear the leaves even when the window's closed
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
There is no tender God
Though I have had my feeble doubts
I know there is no place for me
And heaven is a tasteless alibi
Life is an ongoing list
Of rhetorical questions
About object impermanence
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 1:53 AM UTC
The fine fine
fine
wrinkle of your lips reflected
refracted
in the passing light
sight
of a carside window pane
pain
in the heat of a copper glowing
growing
like fruit after the flower dies
cries
in the narrow cave of your eyes.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 5:28 AM UTC
I'd like to cut my hair and feel
naked as I was
the day I left my shirt sheltering your back
I do my best to cut my curls to the
quick and cut your fingers
running down my spine
I'll cut the sweet brown sound
of me touching you with Mozart and mad
mad love in my eyes
I'm going to take my knife and free
my face from these ragged
wind-whipped blades I treasured
I can live raw
as I was the night I crushed stars under my
toes dancing on a concrete pilon
I was spinning not falling
into your soft embrace but even then
there was a beauty of a blade in my back pocket
I'd like to cradle you in the weary
cotton shirt I left behind and as I walk away
naked I'll cut you from my mind
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 5:40 AM UTC