Cancel me to work the everyday,
gorgeous and made as if by money-
for money. My body glossing
for the lifestyle it represents
all its own.

The Curvature of my eye
shadowed behind the silk
of my hair. God
made the beautiful
for something else
than donning the same shirt and shoes
to grind another blue sky day
through to its ashy undertone.

They could call me madness
and I would rise up a dirt devil
over the scrub of the mundane-
all glimmering darkness
and suggestive dirt.

Summer comes and the crazy creeps in
driving me out
to the streets-
roads and alleys,

To madness and the barefoot listlessness
I wont keep longer than a week
I wont stay longer than a day.

My man, to survive
a second summer,
in question.

Sip. Drink. Swallow. Stare On.
At this point I'm alone
thinking maybe maybe maybe maybe.
I cool, the leaves unfurl

from the buds they were- only
weeks ago-
I was sane.
And moving forward.

Hold fast to that which is good-
sheets in clenched fists
bodies churning fast then-
minds blank as emergency room flatlines.

Render to no one, evil for evil-
spread out wide, butter on bread,
before you like a deer in headlights
humming in shared solitude.

And deliver us from debts- as we-
forgive our debtors.
Each wall collapsing as we tumble down-
down, down- a cushioned fall.

And lead us not into temptation
a jolt of the lungs- intake of air
sweet like sugar on the tip of my tongue.
Motions liquid, silky.

But deliver us from evil.
Oh God! Please save me- as hearts
pound to bones- playing nerves as harp strings.
Oh God! please save me. Save me.

Lackluster living just south of where the air will freeze you solid and bite you harder than a dog. The land here sighs in the morning and sings at sun-high. The humming comes at night. Fallen into ditches, where the breeze gets sticky as it grows slow, winding in and among them.

the part of loving someone
who doesn't love you
back.
the worst part.
the thought
on the tip
of your brain.
circling.
prying.
conceived.
he doesn't love me
back.
the worst part.

Help me see
the end of today
with my
band aid thumbs-
eyeliner and mascara.

Tell me how
the sun will rise
tomorrow,

how I
should be there
to see it.

To my mom-
I remember that day,
I was so little
The horizon went on forever
when we walked down a sidewalk
to the nearby cemetery. (not a sad place)
With grass crunchy
And a blanket picnic.
I told you about giraffes-
under the hot sun,
in the blouse you had buttoned.

Or that other time-
searching for a new house,
way far up in Maine.
Driving home on the highway
we sang and
there was nothing terrifying to tell.
The lights shone- passing cars-
that world was ignorant (bliss)
I told you simply
How joy felt. That moment.
You smiled.

There’s this dim memory
Water slapping against
The old boat’s hull,
your comfortable song-
the  lullaby.
(I sing it,
to myself now
when I can’t sleep.)

We went together-
countless doctor’s appointments.
You held my hand
and wished I was okay-
when I wasn’t

This new you,
I see it every day.
And I hope that some time
I will walk through the door
to a hug and a kiss,
and my mommy will be back.
Because I am all alone
without her here.
And I miss her
more than anything.

You had promised
To set me free.