Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I could never be a skyscraper,
never an airplane.

I could never be the Space Needle,
never the Eiffel Tower.

I could never, ever be Mount Everest,
never a California redwood.

I've a fear of heights, you see,
space and motion not my thing.

"Confront your fear," they say.

But let's face it, I just can't face it.

"Do it for me," she said.

Well, if it takes climbing the sky
to prove my love for you,
I guess I'll die trying.

Literally.

So long as we don't talk about
my even bigger fear of widths...
~
Tonight

I will

Surrender

To your mesmerism

Sailing further

Into the deep blue light

Of your wide open iris

And enter the blink

~
~
The arithmetic of murky waters
Is not so clear

Neither are my chances of survival

Here is me
Face down in urgent sea

My wave
My grave
My gateway, perhaps

Whatever the consequence
Suffering is the new salvation

It all adds up
Sum how?
Sum way?

And if I was your ship
Destined to flounder
In the wide open drink

You'd re-enter the equation
And find a way to pull me through

Just so we could once more
Make the hurting count

~
~
Mother of many waters
the manner with which she ascends
is sympathetically informed
we are a running spring
from her womb
flowing along the magical line
of peaks and summits
to cascading fiery birthright

and the rain fell
and the snow settled
and the ice theologized
to remind us
the outside world still worships
her eruptive embers

~
Racist in a cab,
deputized,
weaponized,

Heading for the wealth
of the Tulsa Wall Street,

His hateful hands cannot
drown God in an pond,
but they've often
lynched his sons.
~
abruptly waking to discover
the sempiternal daylight of herself
in a small silent village in Brussels

the sky's a cloudless blue
and she needs the sun
like children need two parents

sunglasses conceal bedroom eyes
smiles hide like inverted *******
clothed in peekaboo milieu

a highly individual creature
in an era of the exaggerated curve
she's an amnesiac

doodle-dawdling in the altogether
wrapping herself around
mise-en-scène

it's breakfast with Mr. Svengali
then unacquainted foothills
and undergrowth
in the flaring of conjugal
light and shadow

hum
thrum
'n strum
she's got the whole wide world
in her hands

her simple slantwise silhouette
declivitous neck
inclining embonpoint
summoning him

no clock, no watch
the keeping of time
is served by rapping
her crown upon the headboard
at regular intervals

her open-tempered sighs
closing with the heaviness
of a sleepy hush

until the echoing of church bells
announce the footfalls
of tomorrow-come-looking

~
Kept in a box
Back of the closet
Remnants of time
Curios of place
Before she was
Someone's mother

London Bridge
Houseboat
Out on the water
Fun with inner tube
Pink lipstick
Little black bikini
Games afoot
Cocktail in hand
Sunny smile
Saucy wink
Natural grace
Hair let down
Playful air
Provocative pose
Naked as a Jaybird
Happy as a Lark
Next page