The last stake
Isn’t,
Then is,
Suddenly
Heavy
Rusty
Gilded in mud
Dirtying her fingers
That bend
To grip
One
By
One.
And in the moment
Her grasp
Is complete
She knows
It had
Always been
This little detail
At the end.
It’s not hard
To pierce the belly
(Right below the button)
But it’s two hands
That force it through.

I see
Your fear
So clearly,
Dripping from
Tips to type,
Like the sweat
From atop
Your snarl.
I hear
Your taps
Brand it
As virtue,
Justice,
As humor,
Or sense,
But your labels
Peel and curl
At edges,
And I
Recognize
The fearful
Bits
Beneath.
"Shhh, love,"
I want to say,
Reaching out,
"No more."
But my hand
Still stings,
So today -
I block the comments.

Her words
Paint memories
First in broad
Blurry
Strokes,
Then in tiny
Brutal
details,
That speak
To harms
Incurred
In silence.
My words
Fall,
Crack,
And scatter.
“I wish I had known”

I find
Myself
In the frame,
Bound by
The aperture
And the mirror’s edge.
I trace
The slopes
Of shoulders
Into arms,
Of bones
Over *******.
I circle the button
And sink within.
And today,
In this hotel bathroom
With modern lines
And a touchy thermostat,
I remember
Other mirrors
In other bathrooms
Showing me what you see.
So I click and hit send
Before looking again.

It’s something
About,
Within,
Around,
Your smile
That stops
My breath
My blood
And holds
Me hostage to
My memories
Of your words-
Cinching
Strong
Cords,
Pinching
Soft
Skin,
Heavy
Between *******
For leverage.
And I am still.
Still and
Still angry.
This time,
I use my hands
To tell you
“No.”

Since you left
(for the second time)
Every door closing,
Shower running,
Or clank,
Or shuffle,
Or creak,
Brings my heart
To attention
Ready
To welcome you home.

I watch him
Emerge,
Over days,
With cracks
And tears,
His new skin
Cranky
And thin.
And I recognize
An old fear
Shimmer through
One iris
Then the next.
And I see him
See me
Watching and waiting,
And I wonder
How many chances
We’ll get.

Yesterday
I needed
To feel
The ground
Solid
And deep
Under
My feet.
I needed
To feel
My legs
Solid
And strong
On top of
My mat.
And when
My legs
Felt weak
Yesterday
I needed
To feel.
And when
The ground
Felt
Shaky
Today
I needed
To need.
And it was ok
Because I’d practiced.

“I’m done”
She whispers,
Her resignation
Seeping
Through my ears,
Filling my skull,
Feeding the
One
Who
Knows
My worth,
Who
Keeps
Me safe,
Who remembers
The moments
That stripped
My worth
To bone,
And longs
For me
To be
Just
Bone.
And I knead
And pinch
And rub
My sins
Made flesh.
And try to
Remember
What it looks like
To care.

The words
You wrap
Around
Your hurt
Are heavy,
Offered quickly
And retracted,
Before the hurt
Itself
Emerges.
And I hear
What’s said
And feel
What
Isn’t.
And the walls
Are slow
To yield.

I lie
Skin to skin
Me to you
Between sheets
Between states
Between stories
Of what’s right
And what’s left
With covers
Peeled
Back.
I lie
Still
As alarms scream
As you whimper
As the dream fades
Into ends
And means
That encapsulate
Life
Into easy-to-swallow
Objectives.
I lie
Quiet,
Committing
To memory
What it’s like
To feel your love
In heels
Tucked in toes,
In fingers
Tangled in hair.
I lie
Because,
If I’m telling the truth,
I’m waiting to discover
This was our last.

First,
I found
My feet.
My toes,
And heels,
And arches.
They dug in deep
And I reached.
Next my legs
Emerged,
My calves,
And shins,
And thighs.
They thickened
And I soared.
And in the end,
I bent
Into feet and legs,
Muscle and bone,
And found grace.

I notice,
Between a dance
And a tree,
How much
Of my doing
Is receiving
What is offered.
I see,
Stretching
Now
Beyond
This
And
Find myself
Steady.

Your words
Flow over
Gravel,
Tumbling
With purpose
And precision,
And I see
In the bend
Of your hips
The hurt
And hope
From which
They spring.
I should have known
That hearing your voice
Would draw my heart
To yours.

I peer
Towards the flame
From behind
The gauze of,
“I wish,”
And
“What if,”
And
“Why can’t,”
And it is dark
There.
And it is dark
Until
My breathing seeps
Between the edges
Separating
Wishes from
Cants
And why nots
From what ifs.
And here
I am now
In the clear
Flickering
Light
Of the morning.

I forgot,
Today,
To pick
A beat
To set
My flow.
Instead,
I found
The rushing
Of my breath
And the creaking
Of my bones
And the popping
Of my joints
And the whispered screeching
Of my muscles
In the silence.
I remembered,
Today,
To hear
My flow
Set my beat.
And the closing chords
Were lovely.

Some days,
I feel lonely
In the dark,
In the quiet,
Seeking
To create
A moment
Or two
Of just being
By redoing
And redoing
With Intention.
Other days,
Though -
Other days,
Everyone
I’ve ever loved
Or hurt
Or been seen by
Shows up
In the alleys
Between
Being
And doing
And I
Recognize
Us.

I pause
The grinding
Mindwork
To find
My pieces
Scrambled and
Scattered
About.
A hope here.
A doubt there.
A glimpse of a memory
That always leaves me
Guilty.
I pause.
And breathe
Space
Between the gears.
I pause
And stretch
Time
Between the beats.
And with spacetime
Set aside,
My pieces slip into place.

He smiles,
Despite
Best
Efforts.
The left corner
Where lips meet
Tucking,
Top lip
Peeling
From bottom.
And I
Recognize
Us
In the softness
Around,
And the light
From,
And the darkness
Within
His eyes
Before
He blinks.
And efforts
Win.

I place
My parts
Just so
(In rows)
And settle
Into
Around
And through
My frame,
Letting go
Of what’s not needed,
So what is
Can steady.

My body
Arrives,
Still
Hot and
Driving
The beat
Of my run.
And the Practice
It finds there
Is more rest
Than rhythm
More stillness
Than shifts.
And I breathe
Into body
Over and over
As my mind
Insists
We move on.

I went searching,
Today,
For broken connections,
For old wisdoms,
For glimpses of a younger me
Through a younger me’s
Words.
It had been awhile
Since I thought about
The things
I used
To Know.
And I thought
And I searched
And I found
A silent sunset.
So
MySpace blogs are not a thing.

My mat
Feels
Somehow
Simultaneously
Too big
For the small
Space
I’ve squeezed
Myself
Into
And
Too small
To contain
What’s leaking
From
My bursted seams.

Some days
I have
To shut
My eyes
And listen
To find
My way
Into my skin.
Body still,
I fill my lungs
And lay
Breath
Down
With intention
Crumb
By
Crumb.
And for a moment,
I am full.

I find
My
Self
Settling
Into the place
And time
I call
Here
And
Now,
And let go
Of the job
Of doing
The
Calling,
Just
In Time
To pick it up
Again.

On this day
I slipped
Into my practice
Upon waking
Like
Easing
Into your bed
After too much
Living
Leaves us
Weak.
Necessary
And
Indulgent
Somehow
To leave be
The befores
And the laters
And come to rest
In the now.

It's unsettling
(Fundamentally)
When the thing
You yearn for
From the one
Who once
Yearned for you
Just
Isn't.
Unsettling to keep wanting
Unsettling to stop.
Unsettling to settle.
But then -  
Someone has got to run the dog before 10.

I reach out
Gently
With wiggling fingers
And giggling breath
And find
You
Hard
And just
Out of reach.
And I am lost
For a moment
To the iterations
On this moment
That still me
And pull my hands
In close.
And then the
Fabric beneath
My fingertips
Is a son
Becoming man
And I breathe
And love
And slip my hand
Into the rocky palm
Of a mountain
For a walk
With my mother.

We both know
I’m bad at breakfast.
And good at preparing it for others.
But today I wish I liked eggs,
Loved a muffin,
Or toast.
So we could still love each other
When you prepare your own.

Your brows
Draw tight
Darkening rings
Below those icy blues,
And I watch
You seep
From view,
Refusing
To be probed.

“After”
Is the word
For all that occurs
From here
On out.
Makes me wonder
What will be
That makes now
Become “before.”

I shift
And lean
And pitch
Ahead to
Balance
These tips
To toes
And breathe,
In flight
For one,
Two,
Three,
Before
Looking
Back
And settling
Spread
From
Behind
To ahead,
Arriving
In all that
Could be.
And I breathe.

I settle,
Bones
To mat,
And draw
Air and pain
From the world
Around me,
In and down,
Then rolling
Gently
Up and out,
Until
This
Small
Thing
Becomes
The only thing,
The every thing,
And I am now.

He peeks
Around the corner
Chin high
And hopeful,
To meet her gaze.
He kneels,
And lays
Fragments
Of a life imagined
At her feet.
She smiles
And sings
The chords
Of lives
Remembered.
And he’s just learned the chorus,
When he realizes he’s alone.

I guess I imagined things
Differently.
That our Love
Wouldn't flow
Down the path
I'd worn bare
When I was too young
To know
I was a person.
I must have imagined a person
Before I was she
And maybe while
And maybe now that
I seem to have forgotten
The kinds of things
That made up
My edges
That fit so well
With yours.

I watch
The words
Dance
Full grown,
Well mannered
From your lips,
And the threads
They call
To existence
Weave
Perfectly
Together
A start,
An arc,
A seamless
Resolution
Where worlds
Spin
With sense.
And I am
Lonely
Shrouded
In your tapestry
Clinging to my ******
Beneath.

The most recent
Day one.
Your stillness
Thrashes.
Your silence
Screams.
And I hope
This stays a one.
I don’t dare hope
That there’s a two.
And I wish you would struggle out loud.

And in the morning
I roll out
My old mat.
And on it
I gather
My stray
Yearnings
Concerns
Memories
Regrets
Hopes
Et cetera,
Making room
For them to thrash
And reach
And tumble about
Without taking me with them.

The rhythm comes
Easily tonight,
With a day’s-worth
Of doings
And thinkings
And feelings
Looking to settle.
And the breath
Shares the beat
With the body
On repeat -
Pulling,
Folding,
Melting,
Breathing.
I pull.
I fold.
I melt.
And breathe.
And breathe.
And breathe...
I’m all colored bits
Bound in wax paper
When your voice
Whisks me back -
“Baby?”

She stumbles
And swings
Along
A tightrope
Of yearning
And panic
And relief,
Grasping for the coat sleeves
And purses
And ponytails
Of those
Who get
So close
Yet walk
With ease.

Twenty-one years ago,
I was running my last speech tournament,
Serving this community of brilliant young people
Who spent our weekends
Telling other people’s stories
In cluttered classrooms
Of empty schools,
Longing to touch another human
To bring tears or laughter
With just our words
And the spaces between them.
And when the awards had been issued,
And our guests departed,
We seniors told our own stories,
Shared our own tears and laughter
As we prepared for what comes next.

I was not prepared for what came next.

Twenty-one years ago,
I walked into a house too brightly lit
For the middle of the night
Confused by the presence of people
I didn’t live with
Who looked away when they found my eyes.
And someone kind led me to my mother
Who held me tightly when I screamed
Over
And over
And over
That he shouldn’t have been out,
That this was stupid,
That... just... no.
And I sat on the swing
With a friend who could listen
And found my words lost
To the spaces between them.

Twenty-one years ago,
My story changed.
My tears changed.
My laughter changed.
Like the song I used to play on the piano
That includes a note the key no longer sings.


And today,
I use words
To remember.

I watched you,
Today,
Hesitate,
While you watched them
From the easy edges.
And I remembered
What it's like
To just be
And to be
Just out of reach
And to notice
No one
Is reaching.
I watched you watch
Today.
And notice.
And hesitate.
But when I reached,
You were gone.

Today
That space
I seek
And find
Was slippery
And sloped.
I found myself,
Over
And over,
Sliding forward
Into
Tomorrow,
Into
Next month,
Into
And Then
Into
What If
And
One Day.
But
When I let go
I found,
At the bottom,
The sought.

I watch him
Still
Resting,
His brows
Drawn slightly
By twists
Of a dream
Since faded.
I watch
And I remember
Him
Above and
Inside me
Pushing
Past
Pain
Shrouded
In regret
Locked
Within
Shame
Posing
As
Eagerness
To
Please.
And the memory
Stirs
At my root
Cracks open
My chest
And pulls
The bow
Of my spine
To lift my chin
To sky.
And my gasp
Is barely audible
Over his voice,
“Baby?”

I push
These swords
From
And through
Tired
Confusion
To clarity,
Before
Binding
Blades
Behind
To lead
With heart.
And,
Open,
We see
Past
What we know,
And bow
To what
We co-create
Hearts
Cracked open,
And sharp edges
Bound.

She draws
Breath
In
As she knows
To do
When the panics
Rise
And suddenly
In the edge
Between inhale
And ex
She wills
The knot
Of muscle
Beneath *******
And bone
To rest
And slow
Band
By
Band
Until
It is still
So she can be
For she is very tired.

I reach
And feel
My mind
Reach
For a you
And an us
We used
To be
Or want
To recall
To create
With tiny
Bits of
Being
And big
Bits of
Doing,
And I
Remind
Myself
To listen.

Today I practiced
All
The most Important
Details.
I breathed,
And I felt
Myself
Breathing.
I listened,
And I heard
Myself
Living.
And I planted my feet,
And I reached
Way past
Where I usually
Stop.
And later,
In his eyes,
I saw what
I practiced for.

“My dear,”
I start.
But where
From here?
I search
For magic words
Unspoken,
The ones
With the power
To guide him home.
And with the power
To remind you it’s his.
But the “come home” words
Are worn and weak
From use.
Like I am worn and weak
And used
To the way things have become.
And even alone
With my pencil
I fall into silence.

She knows
How it sounds,
Her defenses,
Her script.
She gets
Where to giggle,
Where to look away.
And some days,
She longs for freedom-
For mangled lines,
And empty faces,
And shredded costumes.
But today,
She greets
Her applause
And retreats
Into darkness.