When I was just a child
I would often leave home
and wander barefoot through the woods
to the creek , but not alone

my companions always seemed to be
the four footed variety
as a girl I had not many friends
so I made them in the wilderness

I would often lay out in the fields
and chatter with field mice
sneak into the thicket
and watch the deer 'til night

on more than one occasion
you could find me perched in a cottonwood tree
sketching the birds
that would whistle back and forth with me

I knew each and every snake
that hid beside the water
The bobcat, coyote, gopher, and the river otter
to them all, I was just
the Motherless Daughter

Open your mouth
Let me see your tongue
Tell me how it tastes

Is it sweeter
Seeping with blood
Cut at the tip

Trace the edge
With the knife
Make it taste

Like me

Hold out your hand
Let me see your fingertips
Tell me how they feel

Are they smoother
When they’re slick
With saliva

Trace my skin
With your tongue
Make it soaked

With blood

My grandpa
             Words he gave
                            To me once upon a full moon
“Son” he said
            “When you go into this life”
“Remember, that love is a language “
             “So find, my son, find someone”
                     “Who speaks your language “
      “So you don’t have to translate your soul”
                                   Hmmm.

I learned
to plant the seeds
of happiness.
There are flowers
blooming
where the scars
used to be.

R.M.

oil paint
your poetry
onto the caravan
of my lungs-
so that tonight, may I still see;
all the colors
of your thoughts.

Red were the roses, the ones I left on your casket,
Orange were the leaves, the ones in your tree,
Yellow were the bruises, the ones that covered you head-to-toe,
Green were the stains, the ones left on the hems of your jeans,
Blue were your lips, the day you were found in your noose,
Indigo was the night sky, that night that you died,
Violet was that bruise, the one you wore around your neck