Your pale skin wrapped
only in a black corset
and ebony hair,
the welts begin their ascension
towards grace.

No need to burn when
I am around for I bring
enough pain to satisfy
all of our dark desires.

That time is dying and
I have new rituals for your
milky curves.

Tonight you crawl through me
as I bind your ankles
to your wrists,
my thoughts to
your blood.

Submission, like honey.
Slow and ageless,
forever ready for my tongue.

Tasting bliss centuries old
and loosening the knots
inside, we lick our wounds clean.

Time and distance
don't exist in our cathedral.

Sometimes,
Even when it's just for an instant,
I forget who I am.

I forget my name,
I forget when I was born,
I forget how I look,
I forget what year is this.

You see,
You get to a point in your life
Where none of this matter anymore.
That old song titled with your name
Doesn't seem so pretty as it did before
That old poem someone made to you
Doesn't make sense anymore.
You think "it's just not me,
but who am I?"

And you roll up in your bed,
And you try to mess with someone's head
Just to see if you still can.
And you spin your world upside down,
And you try to look everybody upside down.
Sometimes it's even better upside down.

Sometimes you find yourself in reverse.
And you reinvent yourself,
And you change your name,
And you change your birthdate,
And you change the color of your hair,
And you try to change who you are,
And not a bit is changed.
And then, again, you ask:
"Who am I?"

And you meet new people,
And you fall in love again,
And you think you know
Who you really are,
And then the world is
Upside down again.

And you give up,
And you try to live with yourself in reverse,
And you try to fall in love in reverse,
And you see how pointless it is,
And you're back to normal.
And then, what is normal?

And you give up on searching for the answers
And then you start to live.
And you meet someone,
Your life is changed.

It may be a shrink,
It may be a lover,
It may be a friend.
You just look at 'em
And you're home.
You find yourself
In desperation.
You find yourself
In happiness.
You find yourself
Anywhere, anytime.
It's just a surprising
Little scaring moment.

And you realize
There is so many interesting things in the universe
So many movies to watch,
So many music to listen,
Maybe some with your name in it,
So many dreams to live,
So many people to meet,
So many whatever to do.

And
all
that
search
was
pointless.

You don't have to be who your name tell you to be,
You don't have to be what your star sign is telling you to be,
So doesn't matter what is your name,
Doesn't matter when you were born,
Doesn't matter what year is this.
You don't have to be someone,
You don't even have to be yourself.

You just have to
be.

Blood in all the right places.

Your square ******* head
looks just the same,
a little older maybe,
some new lines around the edges.

Still the same crazy shine in your eyes.

Years later the same traces,
barely discernible
to the unknowing,
of earlier
disgusting
scenarios
being played out
in your living room.

I  smell the rancid
sweat of old men.

I  taste the curdled,
sour milk
of your breath,
recently begging for
alms.
I hear your hands
pleading whisper,
palms
being offered up
as your eyes
lower.

He owns you.

You are not here.
I can not touch you.
I can no longer walk between
the two peonies on my way to
your porch.
The peonies are there, but it is no longer
your house.
How many times did I mow that lawn?  
Keep it tight to the tree,
round and round the peonies.
Good boy J.J.
God how I hated that nickname.

I see you now,
at your desk in the corner,
pall mall burning
in your shoe shaped ashtray,
crossword puzzle folded neatly
and your glasses half on your nose.

You were the toughest woman I know.

" Was ist los, Wer ist da?"

"It's me Gram"

I'd come around the corner and you would look at me over your glasses.
I could always tell what I was gonna get from you by the looks on your face.  
None of us have poker faces.

Even if I got the head shake of disapproval, there was always a hint of a smile, a smirk.
I know I was your favorite.
I got away with ******.
  
In your grey stuccoed rooms
I found my sexuality,
I tried to end my life,
I cried,
I ******,
I watched others battle until bloodied
and
I fought many
of my own battles
in front of your fireplace.
I saw a family blossom,
unfolding layer after layer
of beauty,
death,
secrets
and joy.

I saw strong men crumble in your dining room.

Countless were the times I would hang around on the fringes of conversations,
unobtrusive, but ever observant I was.
I learned so much from your phone calls, your conversations.

I think of when I have been the happiest
and it was when I was being tucked in by you
up in the king room.

My belly full,
freshly bathed,
the smell of avon's skin-so-soft,
clean sheets
and the softest pillows
in the world.
I was safe.
I was loved.

Waking up to
bacon and
french toast and
apple butter and
captain kangaroo and
your creaky stairs,
I have never had it as good as that.
You made the best french toast ever.

And then I got older and taller.
My marks on the measuring wall kept creeping up and up.
I got closer to
uncle mikes and
butch and...
was big jim on there?

I grew into a ****** little teenager,
I went from asking you for candy money,
to concert tshirt money
to bail money.
Through it all, you were there for me.
I would show up,
head down and repentant,
ready for my berating.
I wonder how different my life would have been had you not been around
as long as you were?

That day when my dad
came and took me
when I didn't want to go,
I kept looking back
and crying for you,
You said it always broke your heart, that look.

That was my introduction to manipulation.

It was in your basement
I found the steaming remains of debauchery.
I met most of my demons
for the first time
in the shadows
of the mighty sycamores
on Lincoln Boulevard.

You are not here.
I can not touch you.
You died and we fell apart, all of us.
We barely hang on,
it seems.
Your children squabble and flounder still.
Alliances formed
and broken
and rediscovered again.
Silly, this constant ebb and flow of intimacy.
Blood is thick, right?

We are doing ok though, I promise.
You would be so proud of us, I swear.

Our kids are happy
and we teach them words
like deetdeedles and shoisel.
I still make french toast your way
and Anne's house has the measuring wall.

I still do crosswords,
I love words, because of you.
I write, I  live, thanks to you.

The willow tree is gone
but the peonies are still there.

Ich leibe dich, Gramma.

I had to do it again.

I had to willingly
walk into the face of danger
and get rid of another stray
you let in.

My hand still hurts.

You are the most beautiful person I have ever known.

I have seen you beaten
and bruised by men
you have loved.
I have watched you struggle
for years with your own demons
of addiction, depression, poor choices
and lost loves.
I have seen your face
cry
far too many times.

Through the years
we have waxed and waned,
driven each other mad
with rage
and consoled each other
on our darkest days.
We have laughed,
cried,
screamed,
loved
and hated ourselves,
together and separate.  
I have left your side,
sometimes with thoughts of never returning,
of leaving behind all the pain
of our lives together and seeking my own pain,
only to return to you always.

We  got high together,
got clean together,
and have been everywhere in between.  
There were times
when you have been

so spun out

that you were unrecognizable
as a human
except
for your shape.
Other times you have been
the sole beacon of lucidity
in the dark chasm
of my
great
nothing.

Throughout all the beatings
we have suffered at the hands of others,
all the times some stray you let in robbed us,
all the dope deals gone bad,
the missed holidays,
the broken promises,
lies,
the good intentions gone bad,
through all of that your unshakable faith in
God
has always been a source of your inspiration to go on,
to move forward,
to keep smiling and more importantly,
to keep loving others.
Your willingness to help those
who are in need,
those
that have have hurt you,
and even
those
that you know are going to
hurt you,
has been both a source of
consternation and frustration
along with teaching me
how to love others,
how to have compassion.

You are the most beautiful person I have ever known.
I love you, Mother.