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Kari Dec 2020
The air, stiff as a starched collar
Falls dead on breath, heaving tides
Pushing driftwood ashore
Land, the sigh of sirens ringing
Raising alarm for the fire, the hose
Too weak to engulf the flames
The whole thing burns down.
Kari Oct 2016
All my boys, their eyes, upon me
Like peeping Gods from the heights of my
Mind. Their eyes--those lights--
Reflecting different spectrums of color
Hazel-speckled, deep black-brown
Gazing down upon me, from those bastions of
Memory, wandering somewhere above--
Dark shadows, eluding presence but always present
Always lingering behind the step of my feet
Trailing slowly, slowly.
Carried by the slack of my clicking heels.
Dragged into bed with me at night, with new boys
My new boys, their eyes, those lights
The spectrum of colors--
Kari Aug 2016
Summers at grandma's used to be fun,
Before we realized our grandparents would eventually die
and transcend to planes invisible to our eyes.
And we would sneak into the house, soggy bathing suits and all
Dripping pools on the floor while we snuck slices of American cheese from
the fridge, and butter crackers.
And, in fear, thrill, and delight, we would wolf down our sacred snacks
In the dim kitchen light, before Mama could see or grandma would
get home from work,
And dart, crashing into the swimming pool and enduring stomach-aches to keep
Our secret delight silent.
The delights I endure now are different. More painful, even.
The shrieks of laughter when you would lick my face. The moans when
we slept together and enjoyed those more-adult sorts of pleasures.
Your fingers, when they gracefully plucked a tune from the banjo,
and the notes stabbed me in the heart, and I soared with love and joy and love--
A thrill--like those simple times, sneaking snacks at grandma's from the kitchen
on summer days, when we were swimmin'.
When I love, I feel like a child again, and that is how I know.
Kari Oct 2015
Silence,     screaming lies
The lion in the sun
Bathing     in the bubbling      s p r i n g s
The grass towards the sky kissing
Lips, dead or try
Harder, faster,      cry
Now,   again   , on high--
The pastor, to the choir
Sing PRAISE                        Hallelujah...
Lord!     Oh my and my fingers
Round' your ears, caressing skin
Me alive, as long as I'm here
                                           By your side.
Could we?
Kari Sep 2015
This cliff is not so jagged as the rocks below,
The heavy tide swallows and spits them
Over, and over, consuming
But not keeping.
The embrace of these waters could not be any colder
In this plunge to new depths, alone and reborn.
Could this mystery be my new muse?
Could this siren sing me home?
The darkness and the slumber, to
The other shore; surely the sun shines kindly, there.
When is it my turn to be loved?
Kari Mar 2015
My sweet boy:
Kind like soft candies that melt in the
Warmth of your palm,
Velvet to the touch and delightful to the
I was wrong--
That your sweet would quell my sour and
Recoil the pucker that these poison kisses
Slathered on your lips.
Kari Feb 2015
Punctuation marks the hesitancy in this conversation and
I can't help but dwell on words resting unspoken between
commas, ellipses and apostrophes;the
Spaces between letters where sounds sleep, vibrations
strike empty chords and fall short of expression.
When you love someone on the internet and you've never met...and all you have are text messages....
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