~
She stands on the roof of the world, a ship in a bottle. She likes to wave at passing boats, inviting 120 volts to raise their sails.

Words unbosomed -- her attempt of blotting out the sun and those bloodletting habits.

Her eyelids say, "Only the disquieting muses have time for me." So she writes like an umbrella, shading reality; remembering pluck and luck stories about bumblebees, lovingly wrapped in Tiffany-blue ribbon and paper.

Father used to solve her every contemplation. Now indecisiveness in what she asks. Now indecisiveness in arbitrary tasks.

And she and her negative capability are the last two awake at a slumber party, giving commonplace words the allure of secrecy.

You see, she is only harmless when she sleeps.
~

She stares at the mirror,
Reflecting on her past,
It been a long time,
Through the looking glass,
Remembering the fall,
She knows she did not sink,
She may have landed better if she never took that drink,
It could have turned out different,
Everyone makes mistakes,
She should have had a salad,
Not that piece of cake,
At least she made some friends......and few nasty habits,
She always kept her head,
but she never caught that rabbit
©BLCostello 2022

There's a sea coming out of me
Crashing down its way on waves
It's salty
But so bitter
The way the water it's ablaze

Perhaps Poseidon decided
I cannot be happy
For my sins stained his waters

Maybe Hades still waiting for me
In our garden with Persephone
And Cerberus can smell the scent
Of my lies from miles away

A golden fruit
Just two feet apart from me
Its finally within my reach
But who am I to take it?
I don't deserve what it can bring

My little lion
So skinny and wounded
Still running after what can't be ours

My little lion
That by now I must start calling
My tiny kitten
Why you still gritting your teeth for?

Poseidon forbidden us from the river
For ours sins still staining his waters
No more salt from the seas either
Just the bitterness of two weeping creatures

My little lion
I know you can see it too
Hanging just above you
And not much far from me
At last within our reach
The golden fruit we've dreamt of so many times
We want to feel it in our hands
but we have no right

Dearest friend, I know it hurts in you
Because it hurts in me too
The golden ticket of happiness
But we've caused so much pain and hurt
That this happiness isn't deserved
Neither for me
Nor for you

Hades still waiting for you and me
In our garden, with Persephone
The shine of the golden it's brightening your eyes
And this is how I know I made right
By weakening this badly
For people like me and you
Wasn't made for happiness

- Luckily Tartarus is warm enough

broken souls slump against battered brick walls
the avenue drowning in cheap perfume
drawing in the tired
slick pavement melts the neon lights, bathing the cold street in red reflections

she puffs on a cigarette
smoke clearing her head as it fills her lungs
her lips taste are made of whiskey and a million well kept secrets
her smile never reveals too much
but she has learned not to be afraid
she has learned to keep her head up
she sighs and straightens her back
it’s showtime

One morning out cleaning drains and gutters around the house, doing manly things
Basically just messing about
Suddenly it hit me, yea! I had a moment of clarity
"There's still time y'know, Yea, there's still hope, you could still meet her/ find her
And she'll kiss you and suddenly your hair will start to grow again
And your eyes, they'll grow clearer and brighter
And the cherry trees they'll bloom again in your heart
Your whole world it'll be transformed....."
Then as I bent down to do something
Suddenly I jumped back with a start
Something had moved, just there, just then
Something had well...jumped out
Was it a mouse or worse still, a rat
I couldn't see anything,
As I looked closer though, suddenly there! well camouflaged
There was this big frog
Hell I thought, I hadn't seen a frog in years
Wasn't that strange, wasn't that a coincidence
I was just thinking those thoughts and suddenly this frog he jumps out
Maybe it was an omen
(Probably meant it was gonna rain),
But then I thought wasn't there a story once
Yea, The Frog Prince
A lovely princess kisses a frog and he turns into this beautiful handsome prince,
I wonder I thought, I wonder could there be such a thing as a Frog Princess
If I were to kiss you would you turn into a lovely beautiful Frog Princess,
So I bent down close to the frog and whispered
"Are you my little Frog Princess"
Suddenly the frog he takes off, starts hopping madly away from me
As if saying "Gotta get away quick from this feckin' ******"
Don't go! Please don't go!! I shouted after him
Come back! Come back to me, you are my destiny!
Finally he hops into a flowerbed full of weeds and is lost forever
Alas! I thought to myself, Adieu, adieu, sweet sweet adieu
Obviously I thought, obviously he must have been a Frog Prince and not a Frog Princess.
Then I thought, y'know at my age and with my luck
And I called after him 'I would have settled for a Frog Prince!".

"I don't recall that"
I say to her.

She may have mentioned it, sure,
But I can't really even remember what I had for breakfast, let alone something said two years ago...



"You don't listen,"
she tells me.
"You just let the words fall through you."

I smile, I agree.
I'm struggling with figuring out
what kind of reaction I should be having.
Should I be argumentative,
or empathetic?
What does she want me to say?
What does she want to hear?
I say nothing, just stand there and watch.

"It's like you're not even a real person,"
she mutters softly as she turns to walk away.
"I have no idea who you are, after all these years."

Before her hand touches the **** on my front door
she pauses, turns and looks me solemnly
in the eyes, her focus darting back and forth
between each of my irises.
I just look back at her, rather unflinchingly.

"You're a stranger Justin Wampler."

With that, she turns and leaves.

I crack a beer and ponder a bit.
Mostly not really thinking anything, just...
trying to look cool.
I peek over at the mirror on the wall
and think to myself ****,
contemplative's a good look for me.

Oh well.

The witch is dead?
Can this be?
My sister is gone,
so why am I happy?

Am I the wicked
and not the good?
Are these feelings I'm feeling
to be understood?

If the wicked do not rest
will she find her peace?
Did the evil she possess
get passed on to me?

There's a smile on my face
to mask my pain.
I will mirror the Munchins
celebration in vain.

"Ding ****!",  They cheer
parading down the road,
celebrating Dorothy
and her little dog, Toto.

She murdered my sibling
by her twisting home.
She came from Kansas
a place unknown.

Who is the child,
that is getting applause?
A demon to destroy
the Witches of Oz?

I need to send her back
with a simple spell,
back to Kansas;
back to hell.

I may be the next witch
on her list,
to eradicate
with a house that twists.

The Emerald wizard will answer her call.
For there’s no place like home, after all.

Desmond Tutu died.
Not left behind in Afghanistan.
He didn't drown in a comet induced Tsunami.
The lava flow from la Palma didn't fry him.
Aids, Corona, measles, small-pox or Enola didn't infect him.
World fires didn't **** the oxygen from his lungs.
He didn't dehydrate in the Sahara.
No plane fell on him, nor did he fall out of one.
His size indicates it wasn't a self-imposed hunger strike.

Desmond Tutu just died.

A two year old with his father's handgun didn't do him in.
He wasn't struck down by a falling tree, or speeding car.
I'm sure he fell lots of times, but he always got back up.
He doesn't hang from a cross; he wasn't tossed overboard.
And he wasn't lynched, electrocuted, injected or shot standing.

He died,
Naturally, on St. Stephen's Day, when stoning is popular.

It's a **** good thing he led such an exemplary, meritorious life, or we wouldn't know
Desmond Tutu died.

She bolts awake from nightmare’s fear
Her mind fumbles for the mask
Its visage calm, gaze cool and clear
Once in place no one will ask

Exhausted from her restless night
Escape routes all slammed shut
The knots already pulling tight
Deep down inside her gut

The enemy stand at their station
They circle round her bed
Anticipating her annihilation
The demons in her head

Her feet are not yet on the floor
But the battle has begun
Another endless day of war
She must fight, she cannot run

She glances quickly in the glass
Haunted eyes she cannot meet
The enemy charge takes the pass
Her soul in forced retreat

The mask will serve her well today
Its rigid smile conceals
The terror barely held at bay
The torment that she feels

She plants her banner on the mound
Though hopelessness holds sway
She grits her teeth and holds her ground
But the ******* make her pay

All day the battle rages on
But the mask remains in place
Though at her feet hell’s chasms yawn
The world sees not a trace

The conflict ebbs, her shoulders slump
No victory is claimed
She turns for home, trailing blood
Count her among the maimed

Return to camp yields no respite
Command’s duties have no end
Cares for her troops into the night
Strength's last measure she will spend

All her charges now in bed
Mask in hidden place she keeps
In resignation bows her head
And midst the dark, in silence weeps

Now when the camp lies silent
In night’s hush no pennant streams
She braces for coming violence
And girds for bloodshed in her dreams