Liz Anne

Liz Anne Apr 2014

Silken pigment catching the wind
pulling like feathers plucked
from grey butterfly wings

I've seen the worst of you

like a hemorrhage
brought to just below the skin
your wings have holes
from all the small places
you've pushed your way into

looking for flowers
where the sun couldn't reach

with the slightest icy change
in the breeze you did your best
to color yourself

darker than you ever had to be

and I held back your hair
delicate and falling
while you did your worst

you bleed any way you can

I see you wishing it would all
circle the drain and bring you
to the blossoms you can't find
but you won't listen when I say

they're not there and they'll never be

you can't hear me while your wings
are scraping away
and I did my best to say
the only flowers worth your time
are the sun soaked ones
you knowingly leave behind

I was there before I knew
so much of your life
you'd make ****** and grey

and I stayed

but I've more than found my way
without you or either of them

now I think I'll let you crawl
when you could have flown
after so long trying to keep you
from that narrow hole
maybe you will finally fall
and be free of this

other woman

you should have called friend

Liz Anne Mar 2014

Malleable

I am made of something malleable
A painted earthen sort of softness
And I can push my pulses
With the warmth and pressure of my thumb
You'll see me differently than I choose to be
For someone else but in this small way
I'll revel in knowing beyond all else
I remain the very best at allowing you
To keep the memory of a mystery
Hidden in the sun-shattered way
I've chosen to let you see me

Liz Anne Mar 2014

Impatiens Psittacina

I was always weary.

There is an ache
in the spaces inside my bones
that makes me sure
I am only a bird
kept from flight by the
weight
I bear.

My hands and lips are
rough
like his never were
and he called them
beautiful when he held them
but I knew better than to trust anyone
who hadn't felt enough
pain to nurse a callous.

So call me callous
I am
but all too often I wonder
what good
my wisdom did me
in my proud youth.

Trees and vines
with branches wide and winding
are the closest to kin I dared
find when mine were far from sight
and I was always afraid
that meant my
roots
were built for nothing
but standing strong.

But I know better
now
that I've ripped
those delicate things free.

I don't think you'll believe
me
but I swear
I'm closer to a bird
than I've ever been and I'm
further from flight
than I thought
I'd ever be.

Liz Anne Mar 2014

Painted Lines

I'm looking
for my reflection
in the shine of painted
crosswalk lines
and with every
changing
glow of the stoplight
my hope is growing
weary. I'm not
giving in
but I swear to you
New York is not the only place they
rebel
against the flash of a lighted
hand.
I was built to find
and call
a far more unconventional
place home
but until I finally have the chance
to run across this
reckless street
I'll try to find
something worthwhile
in what's left of these
plastic
paint lines.

Liz Anne Mar 2014

Industry & Ancestry

Wood stains and carpet burns
little miscalculations in the curve of my lips
spun plastics and scentless dyed pine
false communications and misinterpretations
my bruised eyes carry images of my own ancient horrors that must pass
as easily as an assembly line to your chronic melancholic sight
the burn of ancestral blood lining my gums was temporary
now my shelves are lined with books whose words must look like hieroglyphs to you
some truth is found between the curl of my roman toes and the fibers of linoleum carpet
the warped wooden shelves can't recall the grain under every layer colored new
and the carpet was never anything but manufactured tenderness
don't look to my books for some insight you will find none
unless instead you run your finger along
the blemishes that line my cheeks and conceal words
unspoken from ancient wounds healed but not forgotten.

Liz Anne Feb 2014

The Lioness & I

I've got a bitter
taste
in my lips
and it feels like
acid
under my tongue.
I'm listening
to the Lioness
but there's not
enough
smoke and
whiskey in her
breath
to soothe
me
and there's not
enough grit
in my heart
to make me
think
I'm worthy
of my own.
Here's my chance
to let him fly
but so long as I've got
hope
as strong as I've
always
had, I'm not
likely to
try.

Liz Anne Feb 2014

Night Black

Love the dark
the moon-less sky
every cold star-less night
do you see it when
the city
lights are gone?
Earth and sky and the fading
in-between and every color
-less breeze
shine
like you did once in my sun-cut eyes
I love you now
the way I love the cruelest of nights
I confess
I am revelling in a night without
street lamps
without the blinding glow of headlights
hovering in this shapeless cold
I've got nothing left that I haven't
already lost
my freedom came
in learning to love the
possibilities in a night --black
without your shining light