~


Here beyond the sandstone crease
Long beneath this fractured fault
I take my bow as tears do cease
Collected in a cardboard vault

Dreamt of moments spent like this
Where the sky does touch the ground
Lost in the horizon’s mist
Following a whispered sound

Walking long of nights and days
Breathing in the feathered air
Changing course in mad display
Seeking but a simple care

When your hand appears the light
Shining down of softened beam
Cast aside and to the right
Read my thoughts of which I dream

Take me from this cautioned place
Show me bright un-faded land
Lead me for I long to trace
Every line upon your hand

As I feel my heart does beat
Now that you have led me strong
With a love I must repeat
Hold me close and hold me long

This may be my dying part
But my life is now fulfilled
Your have breathed into my heart
*And my every fear is stilled

Her pain…
My knees are blistered
Hands clenched, white knuckles
My thoughts echo in my head
Over and over
Can’t you hear me…pleading

Her pain…
I’ve carved initials in imaginary trees
Wrote poems in fresh blood
Cried for no reason…yes reasons
My breath is heavy on my chest
I stare up…up…up

Her pain…
I am weaker, yet still strong
Singing promises in off tempo phrases
Drowning in sanded fears
Clutching my heartstrings
Dreaming nightmare blemishes

Her pain…
I have done the best I can
Smiled when I couldn’t
Laughed as I frowned
Collapsed against my well wishes
Screaming to the heavens

Her pain…put it all on me, all on me, all on me, all on me

you're a bluebird baby with a falcon stare
tell me one more time
about the cat-scratch secrets
hiding beneath the ****** blankets
you wash once a week
that smell maroon and taste copper
with a hint of saffron and poppy,
just to add to the irony
what else have you been keeping from us?
sometimes I wonder if I had found you first
it would have ended differently
but maybe my fingers in your feathery hair
can't ease your hurricane
that we've come to adore and despise
why did I never see it, screaming,
swelling up in there, that human whirlpool
how many nights were you alone?
when did I see you and your sunshine smile
and couldn't feel the gun pressed against your skull
what else have you been keeping from us?
because despite your skyward eyes
you're one step closer to Hell
please, don't take your mending wings too close to Heaven
you're already there

It had been four months since I started
reading his favorite poems aloud
to crack through congested silence.  

I memorized the way
his nose crinkled up when I stuttered,
his husky chuckle after I read
one of his favorite lines,
the smell of yellowed, dog-eared pages.  

I got to know this man
who had seemingly lost everything
and was just waiting
for his children to visit,
his medications to be dropped off,
to be with his wife once more.

I wore his favorite burgundy scrubs;
it was almost his birthday
and I had a new book to add
to his collection.

They didn’t tell me before I walked in.

It was bare:
the room reeked of bleach,
there were no sheets on the bed,
his few belongings were stuffed
in a cardboard box in the corner of the floor.  

I sat on the mattress and wondered
why his kids were not here  
mourning or making arrangements,
why I didn’t get to see the slight tug
of his lips to form a smirk when
I showed him the new Tennyson
that would now just gather dust.

He left me his anthologies in his will.


*Allison Sylvia
November 30, 2014
4:41:38 PM