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 Jul 2020 Marsha Singh
N
Words
 Jul 2020 Marsha Singh
N
Let us not talk
about family

My father
is the word absence

And my mother
is the word fear
 Jul 2020 Marsha Singh
Erin
I used to go
swallowing matches
filling up on lightbulbs,
light lunches

second degree burns
through my throat, I
coughed up blood,
splintered glass, ash

but the moths in my stomach,
they loved it, you see,
flitted around just for a glimpse,
a tiny ray,
until
blood-soaked wings
stopped
sinking insects
dropped
for my birthday
god gave me ten thousand white birds
so i wouldn't be alone
but i am alone
and for the sake of no one
i'm still awake
hot under the electric lights
deep in my own soup
so i am writing to you
dear lover
i am flying to you
over the asylum's main gate
gliding amidst horns and headlights
and i hope you are home
curled in between cool linens
i am writing to you
in every poem i've ever written
badly, but with sincerity
small-voiced and whimsical
i am trying to love you
love me
i have no shame
Some you meet are hollow,
Some have hides of steel,
Some are craven, witless dogs
While some know how you feel.
Most ambulate with caution, friend,
Tread the middle path
And then once, in a lifetime,
You’ll find that man with heart!
He’ll stand there like a solid rock
Deflect abuse and shame,
He’ll fight for trust with passion
He’s proud to bear his name.
He’ll shake your hand in kinship
And support you to the end….
That rarity in human kind,
That finding is your FRIEND!

M.
2 July 2020
Taranaki NZ
Dedicated with warmth to my very, very few, real friends.... but in particular to my old comrade in arms, Stephen E. Yocum
i'm a little distant
to your ways
tonight

real and i
wonder will
you want me more

as i thread out
to more
distant orbit

in your
view
scape maybe ing
If she didn't color her hair,
what color would it be,
I ask,
making early morning holiday
bed talk

Gray, she replies

disputation, I say,
for I see yet much
brune underneath,
nary a single hairy grayling

smiling with affection,
she salutates:

appearances of a changeling,
perhaps,
I am or always be,


like one of your new poems,
using old words for new colors,
my rainbow always ends,

decorating our bed
So there's this
conversation
we have

Where you are
working
so hard

to learn how
that
happened to you

vexed *****
used
badly

and i
just try
not to sigh

whilst your ego
gits its
high

keeping you
away
from

here and now
as you're too busy
fixing then

which can't be
and isn't
to be fixed
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