i.
when my father's pride lands
on my shoulder, digging it's claws
into my collarbone; demanding
blood in return for his
acknowledgement
of my
existence;
I learn to receive his broken
version of what love is
without protest.

ii.
when my mother's judgment
runs it's fingertips down the
curvature of my spine, searching
for weaknesses in my
posture, pose,
and figure;
my weight, skin
and fissures;
I learn to endure her
backhanded version of love  
without complaint.


iii.
when my younger brother's anger
comes over for dinner, makes itself
a guest in my first apartment;
and cusses out my duty
as an older sister to
even give a **** about him
in the first place?
Tells me I've failed
at loving him properly?
I learn to cry without
really crying
at all.

iv.
you think you've taught yourself how to be ice;
only to realized you're just shattered water.

i.
a dream of mine once
held hands with me;
he asked: "if you had a
hundred tongues and
a hundred mouths––
what wisdom would
you feed me til' I was
plenty full?"

ii.
and as i stood, waist deep
in whatever was leftover
of myself; i answered sadly:
"we often forget lesson
number one:
broken instruments
often preach broken
sounds; and it is not
always up to us to
fix them."

iii.
and that's how we stayed;
together, enjoying the meal
of my wisdom until my dream
whispered in my ear: "you know,
you could always forgive yourself."
"i know," i smiled soft, staring
beyond what the stars could offer.
"but there is simply nothing left
to forgive."

☯
so, who you gonna
love—when the sun ***** the moon
and replaces you?

In her gauzy garments
Above the bowing trees
The moon has many lovers
In the sighing breeze.

They all take her dancing
In exotic lands
They give her sparkling diamonds
They kiss her milk-white hands.

She is round & fullsome
Or slender as a waif
When she is then waning
Her flowers are kept safe.

Silken skeins of darkness
When she's waxing full
Are parted by her brightness
She is NEVER dull!

Her beaux are all so courtly
But she eschews them all
Her only love can make her pale
She burns at his call...

She lets out her moonbeams
Through her eyes they weep
She loves the one eclipsing her
They can NEVER meet!

She, so strong within her court
Will curtsey when he comes
The moon has many lovers

But she's taken by the SUN.


Catherine Jarvis
(C) 12/14/2019

☯
we were the serpents
of yesterday's dark magic;
too bad I loved you.