Sleek and slender with Aerodynamic curves. The sweat and smells of defeat And the rapid flutter of whistle And the occasional strained Pulled sprained dislocated Disjointed daunted jaunted Stunted jammed and jostled Human thrown across rubber and foam and plastic.
Hurt by death Twisted and torn and stretched to pieces Through giveaways and usurpations And takeovers and dominion rights Not knowing where ends the detriment. Strung together by wires and Ink pens and signature lines Mapping out adolescence In the rearview lies a trail Of broken promises or promising Nothingness, a quagmire.
Screens which once shielded Her modesties now rebuilt as Hog troughs and kennels roofs And tables for orangutans to perch, A crow’s nest from which to Target passer-bys with hurled Feces. Her modesty stolen yet her Self continuously intact.
Mother
Without her presence Random mosaic of life Events and changes and shadows Lifting the veil lifting the spirit With guilt and wanton desire for More time as if it really existed. Answering the Siren’s song was Unexplored by those of us On this end, but by ink and memory And glossy faded Polaroids.
She is idolized Eulogized – leaving behind a beacon – No stone nor seal nor Piece of parchment could have Created a more stunning Masterpiece. Tis no great Rembrandt or Michelangelo But this simple sinful woman Created something so sublime. No artisan would dare, no Craftsman would be enough skilled, No artist so bold or audacious- But this naïve heralded an angel.
Victoria
Named for a great waterfall Or a long standing monarch, Her heart bled truth and Her song wailed in agony But her mouth, genteel and melancholy Yet the story it told was a whisper of something greater. Her tongue could speak of the sweetness and the lightning and the immediacy of life. And I fell into her eyes and she Echoes in my heart.
I’ve wiped away her tears And I’ve cradled her inabilities. She bled on my sincerities and Collapsed at my feet. Solemnity Awaits her every move, but most Deserving of joy- something that Evaded her for so long.
A toddler tiptoes back and forth Moving merely inch by inch as Balance is learned and gravity Defied over months and years. Passion has no such wait, yet Happiness, the quest for the grail Toddles toward some never ending Oasis upon the horizon. It is with the passing of years That joy becomes ever more present Long since suffered, long awaited joy.