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 Feb 2015 Mary Christopher
You see her tousled and knotted hair falling in her face,
But I focus on the soft melody she hums to herself as she paints the world.

You say that her eyes squint too much when she laughs,
But I find beauty in the way they flicker when gets my jokes.

You say she reads too much and should get outside more,
But I see her brilliant mind twisting around concepts of beauty and truth.

She is flawed in all the right ways.
My son runs, wrapping arms around
my nebulous waist.

"l love you, Mom!"  He squeezes tighter,
as if letting go would be his black hole.

"I love you, too, " I squeeze back, absent mindedly.  (Where is the cream? I need coffee.)

"I love you more!" he breathes, without pause.
He gazes into my eyes,
searching my planets.

"Oh no, that can't be true," I retort.
I forget the coffee, his eyes are starlight.

"I love you to infinity!" he exclaims,
staring harder.

He wants to sail the Milky Way with me.

"Me too," I reply, and remember oxygen tanks.

I'm speaking in light years, and I hope the sound waves will catch up to him.

His face cracks into a million years of forever, before he lets go,
dancing across the universe of our livingroom,
his solar system intact.

At least for now.
You have a universe
All to yourself
You are a God,
It begins and ends
With you.
You decide
If love
cruelty exist

You are immortal
And gorgeous
Move like a dancer
As you
Float through
The space
Between you
The world

The stars are
In your eyes
Galaxies expanding
Beautiful madness
In your head
We all have
Black holes
That **** in
devour us.
Tried something different with this one.
 Sep 2014 Mary Christopher
two moons, but still
the night is dark-
wild dogs bark at a sky
that I don't understand

there's a tent revival
down by the river-
preacher duane says the light
from the reflection
will be good for the soul

I don't want to go, momma
I don't want to go

two moons are confusing
though the sound is soothing
as it shines through my radio

wild dogs are barking-
my head is swimming-
at the river they're gathering-
and the people are singing-
and the preacher is praying-
and the light is reflecting-

I don't want to go, momma
I don't want to go

I see two moons,

two moons.

r ~ 8/27/14
  |     O o
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 Sep 2014 Mary Christopher
I Started To Fall For You At The Same Speed She Almost Jumped From
Couldn't You Have Said Something Sooner?
The Story of An Almost

Midnight exhales, meet 1 am clavicles.
2 am blushing, meet 3 am commands.
4 am cautiousness, meet 5 am lust.
6 am, meet the one you love.
I felt comfortable with you;
There was instant trust.
I wanted your creased cheeks and bleary eyes at every hour of the late night.
I would dream about my fingertips tracing your sides in the early morning light.
I've been missing the way I could only see half of your face once the drowsiness set in, the way you lifted your chin and smiled at me.
Your eyelids never crinkled evenly.
The first night we talked, you called me cute and told me that if I wasn't going to say the flirty things, you would.
You made me nervous. People don't make me nervous.
I don't get butterflies. I don't get pink cheeks. I get sickly moths and bats flapping around inside me. I go pale from head to toe.
You brought back raw emotion like sugar. It was too much all at once; it made both of us a little sick. Neither of us were used to it.
Your mind decided to change tracks and left me behind at the station. I've still been sitting at the help desk waiting for your return.
You're not the type I go for. You're much too cautious and gentle, generic and accessible.
That's gotta mean something. I usually go for the girls who stain their cigarettes with Ruby Woo or Sin lipstick; into none of those categories do you fit. I go for girls who live halfway across the world and would rather swim in tar than fall for me again. I chase after those who'd never want me. I do it so no one gets hurt. I once burned a girl so badly she wished she could fall from red steel at 70 miles per hour just to hit the water to escape my flames.
You're nothing like anyone I've ever loved. Why is it you had to pull me in so close, thaw me so much?
My soul is of the winter; if I'm not a raging fire, I freeze at anyone's touch.
I just wish you would've realized you made me feel so much, thaw so much, ache so much.
I wish you would've realized that no matter how much you hated poetry, the honey words still spilled from your lips.
You were one of my favorite poets.
From hipbones to little sighs, stinging skin and inner thighs; you told me stories of moonlight on shoulder blades and the dream morning of a nymphomaniac.
Maybe it was a dangerous mix of lust and a little too much trust, but I miss the way you made me feel a little loved
She's waiting alone at the bar
She's lost in her own thoughts
If you don't see her NOW
She'll be taken like your last breath
And you'll be as good as dead

And of course it comes on
That was your song

She's dancing like you're not there
She's lost in the eyes of a stranger
If you don't grab her NOW
She'll be gone just like the wind
And you'll never dance again

And of course it comes on
That was your song

She's given you her last call
And if you're listening at all
You will see her NOW
She's leaving with or without you
You'll be history or a memory soon

And of course it comes on
'Cause it's the last song
You want to hear
This is a "frankensong". It started out as several separate lyrics that were so obviously about the same thing. So I put them together...And this came out.
 Jul 2014 Mary Christopher
Dandelions stand tall
   above the grass.
Inviting, daring. Brave.
    I have the energy
but not the heart
    to mow them down.
The grass rejoices.
   My conscience frowns.
My dog sleeps on.

r ~ 7/6/14
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