a fish in a tank getting scared by vibration,
but it's just a dream.

he is not that person anymore;
she smiles.
she remembers what it was like to belong to him,

but she remembers so much else now;
her brain is a happy butterfly.

the sunlight through the trees pierce his mint green eyes.
snow falls around them
but she is warm.

damp grass sticks to her legs
in the warm Wisconsin spring.

he giggles at the imprint it leaves.
she smiles mischievously and finds her prey;
she throws a worm at him.

smiles and laughter warm like embers of a fire.
she remember that she used to love him.

like cats and mice she hated him,
for a long time.
he was the pesticide to her beloved spiders entangled in webs.

he lingered and she hated it.
but not anymore.

she still loves him, but as old friends love each other.
a familiar kind of feeling;
reminiscent of a happier time and better places.

like George Webber in new York;
homesick, but content.

sunshine lands lightly on her eyelids,
sparks of orange and yellow
glide across her eyes.

image like a kaleidoscope
colorful and interesting, hard to resist.

a child playing in the front yard
on a summer's day
and laughter fills the air.

she is at peace when she feels the grass
under her feet.

a comforting blanket that she once had
ripped to shreds and sewn
back together again;

a flame in the darkness,
a star on Orion's Belt.

all she feels is the heat of serenity in knowing
that it might be okay now
and the sun has started to peak over the horizon,

covering her skin and
giving her the closure she needed.

Sometimes I'm a little jumpy
when you go to touch my body.
While I know you'll never hurt me,
I always wonder
if you might.

You were always so upset
for reasons I still don't know.
I did my best for you and gave you
all I had to offer.
You still hurt me.

It's not your fault that the memory
of stone fists is forever
burned into my brain.
It's not your fault that I chose
that path four years ago.

You came on to me like a
Hummingbird to honeysuckle.
You ****** me dry and you left me to die alone.
I forgive you, but sometimes...
It still really hurts.

Sometimes...
I'm really jumpy when you go to touch my body.
I can see the wonder in your eyes;
I see the questions.
I'll answer them as soon as the woe leaves me.
I love you.

You, too.

.

There's a Polar Bear
In our Frigidaire--
He likes it 'cause it's cold in there.
With his seat in the meat
And his face in the fish
And his big hairy paws
In the buttery dish,
He's nibbling the noodles,
He's munching the rice,
He's slurping the soda,
He's licking the ice.
And he lets out a roar
If you open the door.
And it gives me a scare
To know he's in there--
That Polary Bear
In our Fridgitydaire.

I sat on the edge of the lake
on the biggest rock by the shore.
Midnight was the clock,
starry the sky,
frozen was the earth.
I looked up from below and saw Orion's Belt.
The stars on his hilt,
to the twinkling lights of his bow.
I could see them.
I could see all of them.
In that moment, I remembered something.
A poem he said he'd written
for me.
He'd called it Orion's Belt.
I remember what it was like
to be his,
but I remember so much else now.
He's a liar.
How much of what he told her
was true?
All of it?
Maybe;
none of it.

--J