A moonlit dance beneathe constellations
      not Taurus or Gemini, Delphinus or Orion
                 but stars we named together
                   linking lines from star to star
       hands pointing in air so cold
a tear falls and
                           another
  leaving a roadmap on my cheeks
            that you
                            chase
                           ­            chase
                                                  chase
   ­         lifting the palm of your hand
                 so cold to the touch I shiver
            feeling the beauty of my tears
         that glisten like Venus in the midnight sky
             of this cold Parisian night
  you smile in jest and
     I misplace the space
  between you and I and that sky
  whispering "do you love me?"
    how could I resist the beauty of
                 our second to last kiss.

© Sia Jane

I’ve tattooed a line across
the veins of my wrist
and marked a down stroke
for every time
“you can’t wear red lipstick”
made me believe
I never wanted to in the first place.

for every time instead
I’ve stained my lips with cherries
learning how to tie the stems
so I can slip forget-me-knots
to the back of your throat—
do you feel my restriction now?

the razors that fly off my tongue
perk thorns on my skin,
another down stroke on my wrist
will teach me that
you were right,
shyness is a virtue.

no need to speak,
go spend one hundred dollars
and some percent for tax
to cover up,
even though I’m sure your mother told you
that cotton stains.

so make it black.
get your hair stuck
in the zipper of that sundress
and pray as you pull it out
that it will lose its pigmentation
in the process
mark a down stroke
for killing two flowers
for one bouquet.

hold it
close your eyes and throw it back,
I know we shouldn’t be wearing white anyway
but tradition can take a lot out of you
like what you really think—
don’t say **** in public.

instead drag your first impressions
all the way to the altar
and dress in your Sunday best
a flower on your lapel
clear on your lips
a stroke for the neat decline
of the son

I tattooed a line across
the veins of my wrist
and marked a down stroke
for every time
my image
was my fault.

She looks in the mirror
At the age on her face
"I wonder what he thinks
of me this way?"

She considers her weight
and the pores on her skin
She thinks out loud
"I don't deserve him."

She picks apart
the woman he loves
Separating her worth
from all that she does
              
He looks in her eyes
and caresses her face
He sees it glowing with love
and full of grace

 The lines on her face
  he views with pride
  Recounting the victories
  each time they've been tried

The weight that she carries
 is that of a mom
 Nothing's too heavy
 She just marches on

These bodies will perish
 and mirrors offer no truth
True love abides
 beyond the corridors of youth

  No, she doesn't deserve me
  Perhaps God can see
  Conceivably, one day
  I'll be as worthy as she

Other times I kiss the northern winds, let them dance with my curls while caressing my curves. Drifting me away, a feather in a gentle tornado towards vague, dreamlike, foreign lands.  

& in other occasions I belong wholeheartedly to the moon. She's my favorite intimate lover, the most passionate of all. Her dark mysteries keep me addicted to the light she steals from the sun.

Then when the sun takes me, lights me up, burns me, sweet sweet fire, as he embraces me. A Phoenix coming back to him over & over. Naked scars & whispers of warm love, poems that tell me he shines for me, keeps the soil under my feet warm for me, tells me he lives for me.

All the while the ocean waits patiently for me to yet again submerge myself in the chaos of its storms. Maybe all the salt water in the oceans are just tears that've been shed waiting for lovers to embrace its madness. Oceans long for fearless lovers, lovers that fear not the wrath of its solitude and forbidden passion.

& once in a blue moon I sit in silence & succumb to the unknown. Most of the time words fail me and I can't describe the way I unwrap myself in the darkness. Dark matter, the ether, my intangible lovers living in the same place. There's an art to losing yourself in places like these.

Sometimes I belong to you, but for the most part, I belong to myself.

I taught her how to handle a
Pellet gun tonight.
Now her eye is black from the
Scope, her fake fingernails chipped
From loading,
And the pine tree nearly stripped from
Cones outside my
Livingroom window, where our
Jägermeister
Cups made little rings on my
Brother's Longfellow hardback
Copy.

The night sky is bright blue this
Time of year in Norway.
Sun never really sets.
I looked up at the brightests spots
Beyond the moon, as she took aim
And fired with a subtle
Psstkh.

"So close," she whispered at the
Unwounded summer evening,
And I smelled her lavender hair
And all the warm outsides
As I thought of satellites and
Discoveries, and how moments
Such as this one would
Always matter
More.

If there was an orchard in my lungs,
You left me with not a single breath of air ,
When you danced into the room,
I wondered from what garden did you bloom,
Something close to eden, holy treasure,
And I want to learn about your dreams,
What are your thoughts on the rain?
Do you love the ocean the same way I do,
What do you think of when you see the moon,
Forgot about december and July's burning sweat,
Didn't even know the sound of your name,
All the music in my arms couldn't do it justice,
But I held my tongue,
Took all the sunlight when you hurried home,
Still think about what could've been

Here I am, I'm breathless
And you, you're just the same.
My recollections failed to serve you
Justice once again.

The sight of you has chased away
The numbness of my limbs.
My beacon cheeks are fire bright;
My widened eyes; a-swim.

And everything is rushing back
And hanging on my lips,
Unspoken words that surge and rush
Like blood to fingertips.

I wish my eyes were ocean tides
That rose over and crashed,
So I could saturate your core
And make my presence last.

Oh, that those waves could draw you out
And pluck your from the shore
I'd carry you away with me
To where we were before.



*Original, Unrhymed Notes

Here I am, and I'm breathless
And you're just as I remember you
The sight of you has chased away the cold
And I'm a beacon, all flushed cheeks
And wide eyes
My coltish knees locking
And suddenly I cannot make the words
That will carry be across this
Invisible ocean
Break across you like an
all-consuming wave.

“He used to love me,
and now
he’s just a stranger
who happens to know
all my secrets.”

By Clementine Von Radics

I love too much; I am a river
Surging with spring that seeks the sea,
I am too generous a giver,
Love will not stoop to drink of me.

His feet will turn to desert places
Shadowless, reft of rain and dew,
Where stars stare down with sharpened faces
From heavens pitilessly blue.

And there at midnight sick with faring,
He will stoop down in his desire
To slake the thirst grown past all bearing
In stagnant water keen as fire.