you are a ****, she said
she
she
she
she said, *you are a ****.
i have scraped knees and
a quickly bruising elbow,
a finger to my lips and a
dinosaur washrag dripping
onto my thigh.
but, grandma, she said-
there is a calming, silencing
tone to the thumb wiping
my face clean, a soft smile.
even gardeners mistake the
new, stray trees on their
fence lines sometimes, meg.

i said
i’m gonna put down the pen
replace the empty space with things that don’t leave marks

but god there’s so much permanence
in the smell of tobacco and gardenias
wicker patterned skin
coffee pots clanking against iron in a sunless noon

pill bottles rattling like music too distant to hear how sad it is
castles of baby shampoo bubbles and layers of egyptian cotton dismantled by a fan
syfy channel on but watching the curtains dance instead
small pink toes pressed into green carpet
kicking down the door again

it doesn’t just linger, it stains
like soft fingerprints on my mahogany heart

oh
wondrous
you

among
the
wreckage

came
from
nowhere

to
my
eve­rywhere

Woke up just after sunrise,
my partner already risen for work,
when, to my surprise,
the door flew open
and in she strode, flowers in hand,
followed by:
chocolate chip waffles, oranges,
strawberries, raspberries, blueberries,
bananas, bacon, eggs, toast,
mimosas!
She lit the room, set all down before me,
then joined me for the feast
while my heart beat,
and beat,
and beat!

The song of the Nor'easter captivates this southern boy , quite happy among 'the snowflakes'
Chipping reminders on a frozen -
catfish pond
Just like love , here then gone ....

There are days when this depression is a
Whisper
A ghost hiding in the corner
That feeling that you just can’t shake but never
See
That buzz in the back of your
Skull a bee’s nest
There are days when I say I’m okay and I
Mean it
And there are days the covers are lined with lead
I’ve never been a weightlifter but I know the
Feeling of crushed lungs
This bed is an ocean and I am out to sea
With no anchor
Rough water
Tossed overboard
There are days when this depression is standing
On the shore, yelling
“You should have learned to swim”

But thank the
Universe
For handing you a life jacket and a map to me.

-Alyssa Faye Heckart

A friend advised
that I find inspiration
in other creations,
to not let an example of pristine craft
dissolve the lashing of my raft,
and plunge me into the freezing waters.

This morning I woke on the banks,
felt yellow under my face,
behind my eyes.
I took the chance, the fleeting chance,
before it faded
and created
this.