I’ve Decided To Write A Book

I will write a book of short stories and
My poetry and it will be titled
(Heart Felt Flight)
Inspiration from my Hello Poetry Friends
Beautifully Broken—Scripted Silence—
Mark S—Mrs Timetable—Carlo C Gomez—
v V v—Perry—Thunderstorm—and I will add the rest of you as I write it. God Bless!!!

Closer and closer still.
Boiled blood and ******* bones.
Hallowed out the marrow
hung on a string around your neck.
Crossed like salvation
But backed with trumpets like judgement day.
Knuckles pronounced like a second language
stand on cracked and stained hands but hold nothing.
And that old sun is setting
future, my love, the future is coming.
Bored like teenagers into the meat of our chests are messages cryptic and final.
Messages written about us and left by others, cross pollination.
Freeform Saturday shopping trips are become the air I live for.
You my raison de'tre.
Stand back and watch us bleed for the future.
His quiet breathing like music between us.
Bring on the judgement.
Welcome the night.
Stand.

I can still feel your hands reaching back
pulling my ribs apart
a meal
Somewhere from before where you still exist
sliding the meat from the bones
of the women you loath

A monster
gnashing teeth
withered down to dull stones
You have done this many times before

One day I saw Liza Minnelli
on the television
And she said, pointing down at a
Young women's feet
"I know precisely the day when you will no
longer be able to wear those heels!"
I thought
**** you Liza Minnelli!
Shut your mouth!
That is truly unspeakable
Cruel
And it does not concern me.

Sadly,
In less time than I would have liked
My beautiful
Coal black brushed sued
Miu Miu Booties
with a golden zip up the back
And the most fantastic heel
(That line!)
Hurt me beyond
anything I knew
a shoe could do to a person
I started taking ibuprofen
before I slid them on
But I knew
Liza is right.
It's over.

It came for me young like menopause.

Women a decade older
are running all over the place
in their stilettos.
Their four inches.
It's more than I can bear
to look at the images anymore.
Because shoe envy is real.
And so is the grief.

Shoes I have known....

I still think with a heavy heart about those
gorgeous Cesare Paciotti t-straps
Some of my last
although
I didn't know that at the time
It's better not to think
But the memories return
These had an amazing heel as well.
Chunky Italian rather than a delicious subtle
swag.

I seek solace in wedges and kitten heels.

O Liza Minnelli!
That evil forewarning.
Does Disney
have a witch that does this sort of thing
because they should.

The craggy finger extends from the cloak
and points down at
the innocent girl's
barking dogs
encased in an excruciating
yet stunning pair.
No apple.

"When the Sun has returned 57? No.
39 times around the Earth, no beautiful shoe
with a perfect heel and toe-box
will you ever wear again.
The pain will be so great that you will beg to take
them off if you are fool enough to put them on."

That's a strange curse my friend.
What kind of unfulfilled bargain prompted that?
Liza Minnelli!

I'm sure that they've seen this
a million times.
At Saks, Neiman's or Bergdorf's
It's probably boring.
"Oh that again."
The shoe goes back into its box.
No point in bringing out the other.
I'm so very sorry madame
There isn't another size
Have you considered a slipper?

I, myself have considered a fete
where all my old broads
get those heels on
regardless of the ability to walk
Bring the crutches
Or the wheelchair
And pose to the gods
There would be serious pain,
even tears.
But I'm fine with ******.
Seriously.

Instagram parties documenting the old hens
under sedation
or knocked out for the photo session
with those insane heels on.
It could happen.
May have already.

Liza?
Did those red sequins
on your mother's feet
bring into being something not human?
All I know is that it's over for me
and I'm largely innocent.
I will admit to
Jealousy and Envy
but I am not at all bitter
and this does possess cinematic potential
Grimm theatricality
(Grand Guignol used to be
so popular so throw that in)
A Perverse Maytagged Cinderella minus a Prince
It's everything showbiz.
It's entirely fitting.

I am the hedged question put to a bland catalogue. Perhaps there is no right to expect anything more than diluted answers.

The rose buds are falling off, a bell tolling in silence, an uneasy clock slowly sweeping fairy dust with its bare hands.

Soon the paint will dry, congealing thick and fast on the brush tip it has never left. It is pungent as a rotting flower.

Watered-down doubt flowers, its roots grazing my conviction. I fear the simple answer will undo my seasoned justification.

There is little good in ex post defibrillations. Ambulances are not made for chasing after Frankenstein fairytales in various reincarnations.

My neighbor pruned his pear tree  
he did it with such deliberate care
for the load of summer fruit broke limbs
he waters and nurtures that tree so special to him.

Pruning lets in the sunlight and air
vibrant limbs and blossoms appear.
What can I prune for good health,
for light, love, and soulful wealth?

in December? Naked and
bare. No colors at all. Stripped of
everything. No one making their home
on your branches. No one climbing
your trunk. Cutting you into logs
to warm their ranches?

Do you want to be the trees
in June? Green! Green! Green! With
babies chirping away. Providing shade
on a lazy day?

Do you want to be the trees
in October in bright, bold colors? A
work of art, raining orange, red,
and gold. Creating a delicate quilt
that unfolds?