I remember you well,
your crooked spine,
and heart of a widow
that’s turned so black.

What’s made you bitter?
I wonder, now.
You look back on years, but
you can’t go back.

Have you forgotten
my face by now,
even as I walk by you
in a roaring crowd?

Does it ever occur that
you could be wrong?
For me, the guilt I have,
it screams so loud.

There’re two kinds of people:
one kind forgives.
But that isn’t you, no,
and you don’t forget.

As I lean over to whisper,
“you’ve dropped your crown,”
your look is so telling -
you remember, yet.

Biting my fingers
Watching the wall until the paint lifts
Legs twitch
Bass drum pulse in my ears
Smoke clears (now they see me)
Eyes red
Head floating in a cloud of worry
Hurry to lock the door
I’ve been here before
You live here
You lived here
Eight o’clock comes
I was supposed to meet someone
Hate written on the mirror
Eyes in pairs move past the window
Do they know?
Nine o’clock comes
Plans canceled
Deaf to silence
Television, yes
Sit down
Eat popcorn
Laughing while I witness
The death of my
Dreams

**** all you gun-toting hillbilly blowhards.
**** Mr. President - the First Lady, too.
**** your little pseudo-democracy circus.
All of you animals belong in a zoo.

**** your religions, I pay no penance.
**** what you've written and passed on as God.
******* for shoving it all down my throat.
I know better than to listen to frauds.

I'm tired of people waving their fingers.
I'm tired of giving, I want to take.
I'm tired of ignorance fed to the masses.
My eyes are open, I am awake.

When
she drove away
(her freedom, at last)
I let out a sigh.

Her
angry displays -
(it all happened so fast) -
my heart was defied.

I sat on the edge of our bed
and I hummed a soft tune.
I woke myself up on the floor
where our pictures were strewn.

She
must be alright
(she hasn't called yet).
I'm living alone.

And me?
I'm doing fine
(but it's hard to forget
that this bird has flown).

I remember when we were children
my sister and I used to go outside
and pretend we were stranded
in the wilderness
and had to survive until we were rescued.
On one particular day in winter
we went out and built a shelter
out of sticks and small branches
and we got inside and waited.
We imagined that there were
wolves outside that wanted to
eat us alive,
but we fended them off with our
sticks and stones and snowballs.
Now we are both in our mid-twenties
and, ironically, we still play this game,
and there are still wolves outside
who want to eat us alive.
We are still waiting to be saved.

(You)
You’re flying over my head.
(Now)
Now the sun’s in my eyes.
(I)
I have both my wings spread,
(But)
but never learned how to fly.

You’re supposed to wait for me, girl.
You know I’m scared of the fall.

Evening downtown,
listening carefully to a poem
read aloud in a coffee house -
sounds like an atom bomb.
     The world isn't ready.