Shreds of wondering flit about like shavings of curled kindling
inside my patient breath.

Glowing red from fiery curiosity.

A picture is worth a thousand words. A question is worth a thousand pictures.
All tucked inside buried answers,

like interchangeable files filled with

tattered sepia photos of remembrance and murals outlined in
penciled wisdom and painted through imagination strokes.

Colored brilliantly by fervent feeling.

Never to be displayed in museums. Only occasionally shared with an
unfitting casualty encased in careful words,

snatched out of your thought hurricane.

"Your only flaw: you are flawless
and I just can't wait for love to destroy us."*

It's like moving underwater.
Motions tracing leisurely behind a rapid mind.
The heart bursts.
Contents dilatorily ejecting. Sharp shards of ruby splayed
in a resplendent eruption of primitivity, the pieces suspended
in seconds that last years and years, and years-
fleeting in seconds. It tastes like sunlight
and stage fright, painting the mouth a wet pink.
The eyes never truly knowing stillness
until the two gazes collide, melting into one, stuck in syrup
the flavor of searching. Teaching how to feel both
trapped and free, together in a romantic roll of quandary.  
Plains of silky naked skin, burning in lazy lines
softly remembering where fingertips grazed, caressing.
Love, I'm afraid,
is too often the beginning
of sad stories.
Stories about how the shattered pieces of bursting hearts, ruptured
by filling too quickly, too completely with the fluttering heartbeat
of another, did eventually drop.
Embedding their points in a too soft spirit.
Leaving a hot mangled meat,
the size of a fist. Damp, bleeding, raw, and barely beating.
Gushing, gushing, July to June.

Mother, do you remember,

Four bare feet in spring grass and the smell of laundry soap?
"When are you gonna have the baby?" I asked as we stood on the crest of that *****.
And you glanced through your lashes at my  face filled with hope.

Then you paused while hanging a dress shirt on the clothes line.
The knowing, closed mouth smile you gave was a favorite of mine.
and you said, "Soon, Sugar." Which with me, was just fine.

Mother, do you remember,

My small, sticky hand grasping the gathers of your familiar skirt?
Never intending for these days to end, curt.
Listening to doves sing of melancholy misfortune,  so overt.

The droning of the box fan, winding through a long afternoon nap?
Gentle breath, whispering chill through my  dampened hair, with my head on your lap.
My knobby knee crooked over your long leg, never wanting to unwrap.

Mother, do you remember,

Dad fresh from work, blowing through the door to kiss your cheek, interrupting the local news?
The lapping of ten content voices at dinner each night,  and the twins in their terrible twos.
You read aloud by the fireplace and I was mesmerized with its oranges and blues.

And Mother, do you remember,

Looking pointedly at me, recognizing I was the youngest in the room?
Beginning The End with "I went to the doctor.." and "..cancer," followed soon.
The shadows continued lengthening, on that evening of lilac perfume.

But Mother, do you remember,

How I returned to the street, roller skates on my feet?
Striding out the last of my innocence, like it was some kind of treat.
Unaware of the worry that swept through in a sheet.

Do you remember,

The lock of your silky hair that dropped from my shocked and trembling hands?

Because I remember,

The quiver of my voice as I whispered my love for you into your unconscious sands

Do you remember,
our Preacher's large hands settling on your head as he prayed for his friend through the night?

Because I remember,
feeling sorrow beyond my years make itself at home and not putting up a fight.

And do you remember,
The way your radiant skin turned grey?
The cool rag on your face wiping the saliva from your chin?
The. unsettling loss of something to say?
The guilt that settled in the place of your husband's grin?

Because I remember,
Acting cheerful until I was alone with the water running.
Sinking to my knees as the sobs ripped through me.
The last time you looked at me, sharp wise eyes so stunning.
Silently confirming what I couldn't bear to see.

Oh Mother do you remember,
how dying felt?

Because I remember,
Witnessing my childhood melt.

Your headstone proclaiming,
"If ever there was a saint, this is she"

Angrily I smeared away the tears that escaped,
disregarding my plea.

Mother, do you remember,
You and I,
Me and you?

Because sometimes,
I hate myself when
I struggle to.

We are separated
Like the sky and the earth

You are filled with potential that once felt like expectation
the ruggedness of a thousand wild stallions running to the course of their strong united heartbeats
and of the sweat and blood that you've merited your endeavors with

I am filled with ribbons of gentle caresses and a familiarity with the unnoticed weight long hair brings
determination like that of the tired
ceaseless tide that rises up again each morning
and of sweet and salty compulsions

We are separated
Like the Heavens and Earth

You are more than the smell of leather and Copenhagen
You are more than the litter of miscellaneous items next to an inevitable jar of change sitting on your wooden dresser
an exact replica of the Skaggs males' before you.
You are more than calloused hands and a beautiful voice that crawls out and harmonizes with cicadas in the heavy heat lingering into the August night.
You are more than the millions of melodies you've blessed us with
More than the far away look in your hazel eyes as you master your guitar
More than your hearty laugh that delights my soul
More than your kind spirit
More than your careful words
More than your wise wife
More than your delicate girl that I hear call me Aunt
But these things stack on top of one another
Like bricks of a building under construction
Beams of titanium not unlike a skeleton protude into the clouds
Ultimately creating the tower I will proudly claim as my older brother
Directing my acquaintances' attention to the structure that
in this moment
unfinished even
eclipses the sun
Casts a shadow over me
a cool blanket of security
I know the closer that I draw to you
the less I will see of the shambles of other buildings that never compared to you
My view of the misleading wooden structures behind you that will be set afire or deteriorate in the constant turning of gears in the clock of time
will be obscured by your sheer splendor

We are separated
Like the sky and the earth underneath me

And just like the two we are connected further down
The horizon
where we will meet is filled with bittersweet triumph painted in the oranges and pinks of the sunset
I turn and see the horizon behind me
where we began
in all of its plainess
Our childhood in a gray
Hillcrest Terrace
Friday night prayer
Denim and pattles
Oatmeal and cough drops
Iced tea and lilac bushes
All threaded neatly into the full drops of rain that fall from you to I
Connecting the ground and the sky
I turn back to the front and admire what I imagine it will be
Our children's loose teeth
and long cramped car rides
Porch swings and homeschool books
Owned land and old trees
Laughter and loyalty
Irony and victory

We are separated
Like the sky and the ground

But we run in the same direction
not interrupting the others' path
I was not there with you when you let the heaviness of the thoughts in your head fall into your awaiting hands as your shoulders shook
Every ragged breath tinged with cheap whiskey
But I have followed suit of my own accord
I was not there with you when you questioned your very identity until you wondered if you would  recognize yourself if he called you by name
But I may have been caught contemplating the same
I was not there with you when you were overanalyzing one of our sisters' new boyfriend's character and gauging his deservingness
But I often did exactly that
And I was not there with you when you fell in love with your beautiful lady and decided to make her yours
But I was praying for it to be her

An endless fire burns inside me
Searching for
courage I won't have
and words I can't find
Until I can heat you with these flames
I will continue to look at you while you are preoccupied and let the words choke in my neck as reverence floods me for this man who
like his father
remains oblivious to his massive impact and priceless company

His long fingers clenched into their palms
His dark eyes were black with intent
Every elongated pause was an intricate harmony
gracefully accompanying the words
that tumbled from his cracked lips
He heightened himself and leaned in earnestly
Feverish want spilling into his rich voice
revealing the fear that had bloomed in his ribcage over the years
Fear that snaked up his throat and caught there
restricting his temperament
Fear that rose from knowledge of failure

Failure indeed lurked sickeningly
In the frosty air
In the purple autumn shadows
In the smell of hot cement
In the satiny pearl petals of the dogwood his mother had planted

He was a single smooth stone in an endless riverbed
Shaped by
the restlessness that flooded him
the desire that washed over him
the nostalgia that swept around him

Frantic to break out of the flow that was accepted by the crowds
Desperate for the peace that surpasses understanding

And in that moment
his finite experience and crooked path
meant less to her than the last of the cigarette she proceeded to flick into the breeze
Outweighed by her faith in the lighthearted boy trapped inside this troubled man's body

People die and marriages fail
and sometime you will know what panic feels like
Bank accounts go negative
and sometimes you get lonely

I won't be staying

You may come to a halt in the middle of doing something casual,
grocery shopping or driving,
because your wondering eyes danced over strangers' faces
Suddenly remembering the ignored fragility
we all store in the yawning pools of our hearts
Knowing you could never love everyone
good enough

I'll be far gone soon

They will be given a conveniently odd shaped frame of bones
surrounded by organs, one of which will be stretched over the frame,
containing their pulsing crimson rivers
They will be told that is who they are

I won't be there to cringe as they believe it

Sometimes I get blissfully lost in the fields of sunshine
and tall swaying grass, feeling both careless and careful
An emotion that  if posed as a question would be asked,
"How could such a horrible place be so gracefully beautiful?"
And vice versa

These are temporary wonders

Hearts, limbs, and first date napkins will be twisted up in the company
of someone who's memorized face
will most likely be a struggle to recall in following years that pass like the flipping calendars in movies

I will forever forget the south side of those people

You may become so sure of yourself,
you doubt everyone else
So swaddled in your surroundings,
you lose your spirit
So invested in this journey,
you forget you are on your way

I am on mine

They will not know how to see with their eyes closed,
only sure of visible things
Falling more in and out of love with themselves every day
Suffering worthless anxieties and drowning in the sea of never surfacing
They will not see the exhausted circles in which they swim
Certain only of their unhappiness that fuels the strides

But I will outlive this life
and you will too