I want you to walk with me to somewhere
better than this, where the sky
won't be black as pain or tortured and blue.
You are adopting my heart
as you take it beyond the furthest reaches
of joy, to that place where your beauty
comes from. A land of music and freedom lives
within you and now I can see it.
I need you to hold me with those peaceful arms
cradling my weakened bones as you drape
your soul over mine to thaw it,
heal it, let its bruises fade. Keep me safe
when the blood stops flowing
and the tears stop burning
and all that is left is your fingers
brushing the tears from my cheek,
your concerned eyes on mine,
your tan skin glowing umber in the candlelight.
When your eyebrows fall
under the weight of my burden,
your sealed lips will trail
your dizzy thoughts across my mind,
words of beauty unspoken, heard.

Trembling he entered the bar with a cheerful smile,
In a dark green suit and a Panama hat.
Sun-dried wrinkles on his face and hands
Dotted with brown liver spots, passage of time.

Buttons of his white shirt open to the trunk,
Roman summer at last, a little too scorching for some.
Cherry angiomas glittery red,
Dilated blood vessels showing off his chest.

New freckles he never had and not to be
Confused with his only solitary mole,
Stuck on his lower bluish chapped lip
As he shivers struggling to raise his coffee cup,
To the mouth with both hands for just one sip.

In silence he dribbles and drools succeeding to gulp
Down the last drop, asking for the check
In a broken deep voice, one that has smoked a cigarette
Too many, scratching his drinker’s nose as he wobbles
To the cashier.

Paid and ready to proceed his wallet refuses to fit
Back into his rear pocket.
The frustrating challenge a matter of patience,
To which he inevitably renounces as he surrenders to hold
On to it while he waves his goodbyes to the bartender.

"Why do you love her?”
I don’t know, mom. Why don’t you ask yourself the same thing about dad every once in awhile?
Why do you love him?

Does the way he wraps his barbaric hands around your womanhood and rinses it of all pride turn you on?
Or maybe it’s the way his fists move with your tears… the choreography perfectly in sync with the ballad of your captivity… comfort… conformity - same thing, right?

Why do you love him?
Do you not see the chains on your ankles?
These are the same rusty chains that held onto your self-doubt; you’re drowning in a glass of water, mother.
The hinges are loose but you’re so stupid… so in love… your vision is blurry now. Let go of the tears you held back for sixteen years.

“Why do you love her?”
I don’t know, mother. Somewhere between the passion and commotion; the *** and the rage, I forgot.
I think I understand why you’re holding on.. It’s all in the comfort of knowing they will always be there. It’s all in the lack of trying and just being.

I don’t know why I love her.

Hearing you moan about the baby weight
While warming up the Cow and Gate
Droopy tum and ***** ****** dry
And how they leak at every cry
Your body will never be the same
Ever since the baby came
Constantly exhausted beyond all belief
When they finally sleep through, dear God, the relief
Training and tantrums, toddlers are trying
You learn to accept they never stop crying
Oh to be one of those wretched souls!
Sterilising bottles and benches and bowls
Gaining those precious protective pounds
Awakening to those unmistakable sounds
Washing and folding and wiping and feeding
All the work that comes with breeding
And now the sun sets on that part of my life
Never a mother, only a wife
For all those hopes that didn't make it
Bun in the oven but unable to bake it
Trying not to envy and regret and hate
But I just can't shift the baby wait...

.
Red hair in my eyes,
Phones that do not ring,
Supper for one, old dishes,
Birds clearly calling to no one,
Moss on a roof, mute sun through
Glasses of wine, not fading voices,
Winds that saunter, sweeping —
Aloof, still pools in a wanton bower,
Fingers unclaimed in the witching
Hours, an abandoned bed watched
Over, slept upon, the sharp creeks
In a silent, boardered old house —
Where no one has simply moved,
The branches in the blanketed yard
Swaying like new dancers so free,
Grey bark that fell at foot of tree,
What will become of me?

The sun
still rises
even
when the heart
is still
covered
in the darkness
of the night

... and that's a good thing!