I left the trees
I have regrets...
especially when
upon sitting in
on the train,
when getting up,
I find that I am stuck.
stranger's chewing gum
on my ***
and your newspaper crumpled
around my shoe.
every day of the week.
If I left
I certainly wouldn't miss
that lingering scent of garbage
gasoline, and cigarette smoke...
but the shop
at the corner makes
such lovely drinks
the taste left in my mouth
tells me I will
definitely stay
awhile.

I never liked
the way the puddles
felt, soaking my shoes
the icy pull on
my socks, the squelch
and the chill around
my ankles.
never trusted the
protection rubber boots
could give, because for
me they always sprung a
leak. and when spring showers
came, over the tops of
my cuffs and onto my shins
spat the water that
makes flowers weep
and bring forth more children.
but for all that rain...
my toes never sprouted
nothin' but backwards steps
into the wind.

there's a door
I ignore it at night.
I can see the shadows
slipping underneath it
to some unknown place where
grabby things are living
and biding their time
til opportune, they can
****** me.

when all the lights are off
I am in the quick scuttle
to my bedroom, cellphone aloft
for the tiny blue glow
that will protect me
from monsters
unless they are in
the air, materializing in my
lungs to scare me from
the inside out.

and even when I
have ducked fully under
the covers of my bed
I lie, flat, rigid. No
breath, in case dark things
folded and slithering underneath
my clothes, in the
drawers, or twined
around the hangers
can see the movement
and take the opportunity
of me captive in my
bed,

to pounce.

there were six
she was nine she
said mama don't
leave me down here
it's dark and
he's mean so
cold without a
pulse his
spirit pulling everyone
else down
go back tell
them I want to see
the flowers again.

no more words
I quit
no longer saying
the right thing
the stranger who says
excuse me fix
my child
that’s it.
you do it you
solve their
problems.
file it all
lock it
up to be
checked out
by someone else’s
savior
because I’m
done with
being your
solve-the-trick
einstein florence
nightengale mother
theresa
failbot.

I don't know you
I didn't know you
but you make him hurt
on a memory
from a picture I
only saw once
there were trees
tiny smiling eyes
and you were a
name that used
to make him happy
or so I was told.
I am sorry
that you are gone
now, and
I can hear his
I heard his tears
on the phone
bringing mine up
for a stranger
who is part of
my father.
please let him
dig away your
image. and bury
the spaces you put
between all of
the people you were
supposed to love.
let him not be
weighed upon
by ties you broke
without even
building them.
I hope you rest
in peace without
pain. and I
hope you make
me stop crying
for the little
brother you
stopped remembering
when you
forgot the importance
of
yourself.

you paint it
golden, you know...
Sun, good job
on that whole
deal. You turned this
ugly strip into
something more than
a mother could love.
and as it goes down,
taking those ugly
dishwater fluffs that
I am ashamed
to each call
Cloud, and setting them back
on the horizon with
sparkling amethyst slabs
decorating each city
window
I decide, Hey,
when you do your
job so,
beautifully the
day
is not wasted
And as long as
you keep bringing me
nights full
of stars
and a living earth
in the morning
Everything will
be just
fine.