~

Whipped cream clouds
on strawberry sherbet skies
reflect upon balmy turquoise waters
rolling in the rhythmic cadence
of our ever beating hearts

In solitude we stroll down
an endless beach framed by
opaque weathered dunes and
seashell dreams at the edge
of white foam borders quivering

Leaving footprints
harmonic impressions,
rippled patterns of love
along a soft whispered shoreline
longing passion’s embrace

I kiss you,
deep and lingering, quenching
the thirst of my desires
with moist ambrosial flavors
of your warmest affections

Slow meandering waves
gently caress sand coated, tanned skin
as we now share love neath
a pastel painted sunset sky,
*creating a perfect summer evening

Precipitation
I felt the raindrops
Hit my lungs
Like a cigar
I wasn't supposed to wholly inhale
But I breathed deeply
As if the earth were a hookah
With endless coals
Lit
As the street lights
Illuminated each drop
I only missed
One or two

Sometimes
you
get used
too much,
and you
confuse bloodstains
for watermarks.
It’d be easier
to pretend like
nothing’s happening,
rather than admitting
that, deep down,
You were hurting.
And you were always hurting.
One minute
everything’s going fine
and the next
you’re breaking down;
tears flowing from your eyes
uncontrollable,
unbearable,
unyielding.
You
look me straight
in the eye,
and I knew
the words
even as
they caught in your lungs,
“Am I okay?”
I shook my head
and said not a word,
as you leaned in close.
In the silence,
I wondered:
Who was consoling whom?
If I close these eyes,
it would feel like
all of those other nights,
or perhaps,
this was still the same night.
And all the heartache,
and truth,
and yearning,
were seeking moonlight
once again.

-D.C.

_

In a lemon zest field
of goldenrod and lavender,
where butterflies frolic
in calm breezes
on a warm springtime afternoon
and shade trees cool the day
with outstretched arms of nature,

an aphonic cloud approaches,
menacing in proportions,
clinging to a frightened sky
Swirling leaves and mingled debris
like shrapnel of days long gone

Beneath life ceases to exist
as frayed discolored blooms
litter the now vacant wasteland
and roots exposed on a parched
desolate earth burn
in umber tinted weepings,
coughing of dust bowl deliveries,
while cataclysmic calamities
bring forth the wrath
of the end

And as the cloud finally passes,
dissipating in a mist of forgotten fears
making its way to a darker universe
now waiting on
the other side of hope,

sunlight returns from pale blue skies
slowly breathing, exhaling the past,
inhaling the future…    
a lone butterfly appears
fluttering amidst tiny green sprouts
peeking through a new born soil
*and so it begins…again

the birds didn't tell me.

pushing back your covers, wiping away sleep;
seeing me, or the absence of me--
a virus inhabiting a body, sharing a bed,
a house, a life, a marriage, but
refusing to share that which makes a woman
truly and utterly a woman.

not with you.
because I gave you my posture, the bounce in my stride,
the grin so wide it hurt every time I smiled.
I put on a coat of pounds that warmed the feeble bones:
shattered confidence. broken girl.

would you see me if I listened better?
if I shut my mouth and closed my eyes?
if I let pain push deep within and make the blood
stop the bleeding?

what manual tells a woman how to love
someone she always had, but never really did?
for that young, naive take on romance,
on starry eyed place settings at dinner parties
seen in movies and in upper middle class society--
were those not the conventions for us?

when I said goodbye to my family home,
when the man who gave me my wit, my sharp tongue,
my fast feet, when he closed the door, and I left,
sobbing, pleading to go back in,
where safety cocooned my childhood,
tucked the memories in cardboard boxes,
stacked precariously high in the room that raised me,
trading tears for dance displays in a smudged mirror,
dust settling still.

a new man, a relevant man, he took me away
and educated me on good: "be good."
a good wife is
one who obeys, submits, cleans, cooks, opens, closes,
hungrily, dutifully, like a fish with flakes of food
as invisible companions.

no book taught me to fear self-destruction
or to sense the tide that crashes into fledgling happiness,
not two days old--to rip ripe peaches to a meaty pulp,
letting the juice spread at my shoelaces.

dear __ , I loved you entirely too true.
I lost my heart in strands of your hair, pieces of dead skin
engulfing my pillow case and our old sheets tangled
around sweaty legs, feet, arms scratched raw.

I didn't see that when the papers were inked
you put the parts of my heart once yours
next to your name--signed it away
to some better life,
one with a good wife, a good life,
a child, yard, and a three car garage.

I only got to see briefly what was not
meant to be mine.

I took off my sundress,
dipped my toes in the water,
and submerged my body,
embracing yours steadily,

remembering I am already good,

in the then and in the now.

I took my skeletons
And put them in the closet
Way back where no one
Could ever find them
But the noise of clacking bones
Haunted me daily.

You came along
And opened the doors
Danced with the skeletons under sunlight
Until their bones crumbled to dust

And held my hand as the dust was carried away by the wind

Her wings.
Heaven sent, cutting the air in a cross cross formation.
Partially attached, each as delicate as a snowflake, lighter than air.
Such wonderment can only be created in the minds eye.
Broken hearts lead to broken spells.
Heavy tears drop before curly wisps flutter and settle.
Replaced by the yearning of new found desire.
Her wings.

I'm old enough to remember
**** Tracy's watch,
Kirk's communicator,
Needless injections,
Landlines, TV,
Head transplants,
And meeting for coffee.
You're young enough
To remember simpler times
Of virtual friends
Twelve thousand miles away,
3D transportation,
And clouds that don't rain.
The good ole days.

Beneath my covers in the
dark of night,
I felt pulled tight. 
My pajamas and
underthings finding all
the wrong places.

At my time of change,
I was gifted a bed.
I felt freedom.
A space of my own, finally alone.
The eldest, released from the pack.

Revelation of delight,
naked under soft sheets.
I felt the coolness.
My skin alive, fresh from a
warm bath. Feet wrapped safe,
deep within layers.

The Dreams came then...
I felt their calling.
Whispers beckoning me
into flight,
to float above,
observe my simple beauty

Gently slipping towards the galaxy,
I felt no weight.
Nebula's Helix, Saturn and Orion,
their colors became the
pallet of My mind.

Able to soar with the eagles,
into the depths of the oceans.
The whales called for me to follow.

Walking within the beam of
light, I felt warmth.
Crystalline aquifers quenched
my thirst. Grounding  me to the
center of our Earth.

Of an age now,
that comfort has settled in,
I feel whole within.
Naked with my soul.

The sheets still cool
after a long warm bath.


Copyright © May 2015 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved

the old man asks his daughter
would i be a burden
when these hands can't feed by its own
this body is almost an inanimate mess
by its own can't move place
these feet can't walk to the toilet
on bed release involuntary waste
sit on soiled cloth and foul smell
would you come to my room
a hell smeared in ****** gloom
where now lives your father
who would just won't die
but in his eyes write a poem
from a piece of sky