Something that cannot be stopped,
elusive. I am loving.
Coming, breezing about.
Heard and felt--
a gushing disturbance,
whispering breath through
Strands of  hair on heads on shoulders on feet
Liquifying globes of blossoming trees,
prancing upon crisp leaves.
Bringing chill and stealing breaths
Burning and breaking down.
Quietly expanding,
        hushed voices,
             growing louder
We will rise in the midst of the falling,
we are the wind--
carefully sneaking through the cracks.

I shot a man
Erupted his brain into shreds
Shattered his slack jaw with my booted heel, they
laughed when his blood spilled,
flowing and simmering on the summer cement
Who do you trust?

If we could quit and begin again
If my actions had no consequence
If you were able to mask your true identity
If everyone only chased impulsive pleasure
Would we live differently?

I am afraid
that we are sinking
I am certain that we will slowly
poison ourselves until we become immune

Justifying our acquired weaknesses, ruining any and all friendly competition
Ignoring flags on the play that say there are too many
players on the defensive line

Who told you that this is real?
Trapped in one body for the entirety of this consciousness cannot
persuade me that I am here

Take me into the
vastness of smeared pink and blue
Where the birds find

a place to disappear
Lighten this heart of mine, let
me float where winds are

born, where the noise is
lost so that I may feel as
alone as I am,

truly

May I be excused?

My fingers barely connect with the keys
Making letters appear in perfectly straight lines,
Misspellings automatically corrected,
Bland sentences erased and replaced

If I ever wrote as well as I intended to
I would work for my words harder than
they've worked for me
I would form thoughts in shallow trenches
Working out every letter, digging the flow
Reopening blisters and blinking on stinging sweat,
if I ever wrote as well as I intended to

Let my verses stretch the length of the valley
Giving the earth a fraction of what
she has given to me
Let them climb the cliffs, bleeding
nubs of fingers guiding their path
Let my words fall to the sky in towers of smoke

And when I am finished
Let them be swallowed, corroded, and filled
Let them dissipate and separate, for no one else
will I ever write as well as I intend to

Tonight, the earth is thriving.

All of the birds are sounding off.
Wet rainforest air catching,
throwing back echoing songs into the
breathing trees, towering.
Waves crash hard onto the shore,  
I mean it this time and don't
make me show you again!
Showing us again, again.
Girls in short, fluttering skirts
prance through the street in tall heels,
summer wind slipping through the
valleys of concrete jungles.

It is said that anger is a secondary emotion-- While
white hot rage swiftly climbs your ladder of ribs and seizes the heart,
something more vulnerable came before it.

Tonight, the earth is wild.

Looking at the super moon, I am searching for
anything softer than fury. Wondering what possibly came before I was
mad enough to *****, laughing bitterly instead.

Before, hugging me hard,
making me sure she meant it,
"Hi, Honey" came from her lips,
a voice too sweet to be natural.
Before, I called her Mom and
stopped knowing what the word meant.
Both of us made things
easy, until they got hard.
Before I was mad, I was happy.
There was a time it wasn't taxing to
remember our laughs tangling
into the brisk autumn air.

Growing old enough to realize we had all done
a dangerous thing, smashing two broken families into one house
and calling it whole. A full home of people feeling empty.

Tonight, the earth is warm.

Her eyes were a clear blue, thinner than water and
colder than frost, constantly shouting out the way she was lost.
Just there behind them, she was trapped, clawing to get free.

I took to feeling sorry for her to fight a blooming hatred while
savage teeth cut into my lip, holding back heaps of "how could you?"
Squeezing my eyes shut, I sat shivering in the afternoon sun.

I told my brother that I was sure I didn't love her at all,
Seeing a reflection of my hardened expression in his young face.
I said I would have to fake cry at her funeral.

Tonight, the earth is electric.

Tears on my cheeks and burning in my throat,
I despised the thought of being like her. Only making me more like her.
A terrible silence settled into our lives, emphasizing all voids

I was up late on a school night, gathering few belongings and my
dignity in a black trash bag. Driving away from that house on the hill.
Loneliness in the night chasing after a full back seat of children.

Tonight, the earth is alive.

Forgiveness is a tricky thing, the act occasionally coming
prior to the decision. Revealing the before, the hurt of missing something I had
wanted so badly. Bathing in bright moonlight,

tonight, the earth is listening.

Tonight, I would cry at her funeral.

Tonight, leaves me quietly sobbing, I have been betrayed.

I watched him take California's south side,
tossing invitations back over his bronzed shoulder,
in a careless way he had coined

But the sky here has a way of wrapping me up, lifting my chin
upward and rooting my feet in this rocky Missouri soil
Like petals of an overgrown sunflower, my lightened hair
danced around my face

I watched the pale blue of the sky fall down on me and intensify
Masking the sprinkle of stars where our gazes had collided,
though the pairs of eyes set thousands of miles apart,
resting snugly in their sockets

Sleepy words streamed into my ear, leaving my mind feeling lazy
Hardly able to find the familiar tinge of dryness in his sentences--
As though the thoughts he had were lessened in value the moment
they passed through his lips

The early morning clouds had not yet agreed upon the day's weather,
billows of white thinning out into wisps and collecting again
Slipping over the roof top and onto the next neighborhood

I was lulled to sleep in their slow deciding as he held his breath for
the yellow of sunrise to spill through his shades in slats,
reassuring him that the darkness is not forever, although I had
caught him wishing it might be

I had never met my match until our two brains rattled,
our hard heads made contact and butted repeatedly
He made a habit of softening mine, kicking soccer ***** at my face
and kissing me slowly

Fast friends, always outrunning one another
Cynicism rushed warm red in our young blood
We unbandaged our wounds, and bled
openly into summer nights- so thick you could reach out
and steal handfuls of loud black

My crippled hands shakily wrapped up his festering gashes
Sealing in hours of stories of starving, of screaming,
of a scared little boy all bruised and beaten, before
we vanished back into our laughably broken lives

The back of his Blazer became my bed while my darling father
snored drunken oblivion into the air conditioned house I escaped from
Fresh cut grass from the open field, caught rides on my bare feet,
scattering across the comforter that spread over folded back seats

We wrestled and hurt ourselves, I would win, underneath him
We got faded and hurt each other, spilling unspeakable tales from
between our teeth and tears from frozen eyes, down onto our collars
Smoking like chimneys as we lay, swimming in music and moonlight

Every sunset was justified in its ending
Putting the people to sleep and quieting the cooling streets
The beginning of every day was a feather
trying to break the spine he was straining to straighten

He would tell you he was fine,
never given the chance to settle into good,
interrupted every time he slid into being okay
I would tell you he was a private young man,
overcompensating for chronic unhappiness
with good intentions

Laughing off every nightmare, until the room shook,
with sinister hilariousness-his own brand of medicine for
a sweet heart, poisoned by misfortune, a sharp mind
blinded by the lack of peace and easy comings

The night he left, I bought a sapphire tie to compliment his icy eyes
Unsure whether It would be a poor parting gift
or end up tied around his wrists to keep him from going

We had ended the physical slice of our relationship some time before
I sat in his passenger seat and struggled to form a sentence
that would be worth a ****

We waited for our stupid minds to catch up
to the swelling and swirling of emotion inside us
Refusing to say goodbye out loud, I tasted the
Peppermint and *** on his mouth for the last time,
quickly

My best friend went away and he never came back

Someday I will be unexpectedly thrown to the ground
Blaming it on my own unsure feet
until I catch sight of the culprit pair of Vans attached to a
smirking Blonde Beauty

I will grin as I trip on him again

I miss you now, for the chance that
I may be spared later
You're more than enough
to bring me to my knees
from shock, to pleasure,
for fervent and long prayer yet
I stand while you shovel,
unsparingly, digging us deeper
I smile and you show me
how to be alone, together
Catching glimpses of
the bright side of the dark

You can share this breath of air,
if you come close enough

Hesitance resting upon us, dusts over
our desires, keeping me safe and you sound
Taking us nowhere, heavy sighs everywhere,
declaring war with the sound of emptying lungs
Unending battles beginning softly again and again
Filling lost minds with the fight to remain free

Two, itching to feel what it's like to become one
The space called waiting connects me to you,
pleasantly black, surrounding us separately
I begin to help you deeper, not stopping
to remove the damp earth from beneath my nails

You can share my one breath of air,
if you just come a little closer

I toy with the idea of breaking a resounding silence
Getting tangled up in the beginning of it all
Shall I call you teacher, indeed you are learning me quickly
Would I refer to you as my dear friend, words drenched in wanting
I could start, calling you by name, knowing I'd never pick up again
One word left hanging, and repeating, and killing me,
sweetly

You can take my last breath of air,
as long as I break away from here.

Doe eyed, she looks up and asks,
"Will you carry me?"
Halving the rhythm of footfalls.
Honesty in his action hitting the
first notes of a lasting song, holding

fulfillment and fear in the
form of a little girl in arms.

Loyal through the swells- music and storm,
teaching things that he had no business knowing while
conquering things that had no business attacking him.

When the fork in the path
read that he must decide between
Rest and Moving On
he quietly comforted his aching heart
and limped further,

Apologizing all the while to the ***** faced child.
Her arms around his neck choking him, warmly.

Finding peace in their relentlessness,
certain that would
carry her when he no longer could,

taken with the idea that
death was the needed break he awaited.

She lands,
leaving only dampened hands--
Evidence of her stay

Spending her most memorable time
urging a  barefooted girl to rip off
the itchy black dress stained
with sweat and graveyard soil.

Such a sour cliché
introducing me to
June, my only
heartbreak.

Tomato plants bent in half
weighted with ripened fruit,
swollen large enough to
split its skin,
steaming in the overgrown garden.
She laughs like warm rain at the way the fruit
and I hang--

suspended. Growing heavier
in the humid heat of yet
another smeared dusk.
Eerie breezes slide through the leaves,
my messy hair collecting her
featherweight secrets--

bringing still faced realizations that
it's easier to hear June whisper
"There is only one thing you can be sure of,"
than to empty the shallow oxygen stream
from my tributary mouth
back into her swallowing sea.

Tides rolling in and rolling out.
"Only one thing to which everyone agrees."

The thing about June is,
you can’t decline the annual walk.
The thing she’s hiding is
a tall ledge in a pink haze
through a field of wild strawberries.
Letting me fall with silent excuses,
I am too heavy, and she
too light--

*"The thing is, everyone will die."

People die and marriages fail
and sometime you will know what panic feels like
Bank accounts go negative
and sometimes you get lonely

I won't be staying

You may come to a halt in the middle of doing something casual,
grocery shopping or driving,
because your wondering eyes danced over strangers' faces
Suddenly remembering the ignored fragility
we all store in the yawning pools of our hearts
Knowing you could never love everyone
good enough

I'll be far gone soon

They will be given a conveniently odd shaped frame of bones
surrounded by organs, one of which will be stretched over the frame,
containing their pulsing crimson rivers
They will be told that is who they are

I won't be there to cringe as they believe it

Sometimes I get blissfully lost in the fields of sunshine
and tall swaying grass, feeling both careless and careful
An emotion that  if posed as a question would be asked,
"How could such a horrible place be so gracefully beautiful?"
And vice versa

These are temporary wonders

Hearts, limbs, and first date napkins will be twisted up in the company
of someone who's memorized face
will most likely be a struggle to recall in following years that pass like the flipping calendars in movies

I will forever forget the south side of those people

You may become so sure of yourself,
you doubt everyone else
So swaddled in your surroundings,
you lose your spirit
So invested in this journey,
you forget you are on your way

I am on mine

They will not know how to see with their eyes closed,
only sure of visible things
Falling more in and out of love with themselves every day
Suffering worthless anxieties and drowning in the sea of never surfacing
They will not see the exhausted circles in which they swim
Certain only of their unhappiness that fuels the strides

But I will outlive this life
and you will too

"Your only flaw: you are flawless
and I just can't wait for love to destroy us."*

It's like moving underwater.
Motions tracing leisurely behind a rapid mind.
The heart bursts.
Contents dilatorily ejecting. Sharp shards of ruby splayed
in a resplendent eruption of primitivity, the pieces suspended
in seconds that last years and years, and years-
fleeting in seconds. It tastes like sunlight
and stage fright, painting the mouth a wet pink.
The eyes never truly knowing stillness
until the two gazes collide, melting into one, stuck in syrup
the flavor of searching. Teaching how to feel both
trapped and free, together in a romantic roll of quandary.  
Plains of silky naked skin, burning in lazy lines
softly remembering where fingertips grazed, caressing.
Love, I'm afraid,
is too often the beginning
of sad stories.
Stories about how the shattered pieces of bursting hearts, ruptured
by filling too quickly, too completely with the fluttering heartbeat
of another, did eventually drop.
Embedding their points in a too soft spirit.
Leaving a hot mangled meat,
the size of a fist. Damp, bleeding, raw, and barely beating.
Gushing, gushing, July to June.

Shreds of wondering flit about like shavings of curled kindling
inside my patient breath.

Glowing red from fiery curiosity.

A picture is worth a thousand words. A question is worth a thousand pictures.
All tucked inside buried answers,

like interchangeable files filled with

tattered sepia photos of remembrance and murals outlined in
penciled wisdom and painted through imagination strokes.

Colored brilliantly by fervent feeling.

Never to be displayed in museums. Only occasionally shared with an
unfitting casualty encased in careful words,

snatched out of your thought hurricane.

All she sees are unfamiliar belt
buckles and bottom row shelves
Seeking something I'm frightened
for her darting dark eyes to find
Wandering the maze of mundane
isles in the busy super store

A sunflower of panic blooming in
her small chest, pressing against her
fluttering heart as the clicking of her
tiny boots increases in tempo
She is Gretal, leaving glimpses of the
swishing pink tail of her oversized
nightgown to guide me as
she dashes around corners and legs

My strides double hers and a smile plays on my lips as
I match her pace with ease
Letting the shelves between us guard her fragile security
"Are you lost sweetie?"
My calm voice beckoning her teary eyed glance She nods
two times, certain

Her warm hand fits into mine
Together they swing like a pendulum
"I can do tricks!" she giggles
letting her feet hang Too thin I think
carrying her effortlessly
I say that her dress is very pretty Disney
princesses beam, frozen that way
I meant to say that she is much lovelier
than any fictional character

She smiles anyway

The route to the shoe department
fails to sustain its urgency
Her soft lisped chattering
ushers my foolish grin

that falls quickly when I realize
we are being watched
A stout woman wearing a malicious
mask over a face that
was once fetching before the poison
that fed her addiction

My heart drops and I pray
silently that this is not who
it inevitably will be
Her mother, to ****** her
from my strange hand
with an unyielding grip
on the little girl's upper arm

Greeting the child with a raspy
"I'm going to bust your *** when we get home"

My jaw falls open, empty
My hand falls to my side, empty
I want to fill my mouth with
chastising words towards the mother
and comforting words for the angel faced girl
I want to fill my hand with
my fingers, a fist, delivered to the woman
and take the little girls hand once again

I watch the purple hearted girl
be escorted away without
another word

Purple for her favorite color, but purple because she's been
wounded while serving her God given, God ****** mother

She smiles anyway

All I see are faces blending together
and torment
Seeking something that I'm frightened
I'll never find
Wandering the maze of mundane isles
in the busy super store

I practiced my sassing in the bathroom mirror
in all seriousness until a grin and a giggle escaped in spurts.
Watching unfiltered laughter chase after
the string of bad words exiting my ****** mouth.
Lethal darts trailed by curls of silk ribbon.

Insulting my reflection wasn't nearly as satisfying as racing around on my bike
letting filthy words fly into wind that tangled my hair.
As far as I was concerned there were too many things to curse at
outside, where I belonged.
Less spankings, more freedom.

It's fair to say I was an active *******,
never waiting around for reactions.

This was my first time trying on the four letter word sweater.
I certainly didn't know how to wear it. Felt funny,
the way your stomach feels when it drops.
I liked this swearing business.
I liked it a lot.

My days were rich with aimless curses
tasting of cotton candy and I fancied myself quite the sass master.
Telling chattering squirrels that they were "stupid *****"
as they spryly leapt limb to limb.  I was filled to the brim with
pleasure found in profanity.
I rode on towards the frosty haired couple driving my way.
I considered ditching the bike to run laps around the snail paced Pinto
while chanting all of my favoritest swears.
But they were "old *****" so I left them to that.

I continued to grace cats, curbs, and cars with cross words,
smiling all the while.
It felt good
Real good.

I told off every ****** thing on my block
several times a day.
My seat melded to heinous purple bike's.
Handle bar tassels whipping my wrists, shaming me.
Beads on my spokes telling me they were sick
with the click and clack of my wheels turning, covering every inch
of that dead end street.

One day I rode swiftly down a retired grassy path behind my little house
towards the majestic tree that had cradled me in its branches many times.
It's massive leaves had raised the hair on my slender arms
as I hung with my crown
upside down, legs halved over steady limbs.

It had met my mother as well.
Her gentle voice coaxing me from its arms for supper,
sitting pretty on our back porch,
petting our fat grey cat and pondering things beyond the tree and I
in the early evening glow.
Upon my approach I can only assume that the tree was pleased to see me
despite my new found nastiness.
Wise enough to know that it wasn't a "dumb *******"
and that it wasn't going to "go to hell"

and neither was I.

So it moved from an ancient position and proceeded
to lace its twiggy paws into my hair,
yanking me and my deep seated smugness
promptly off the old bike.
Contrary to my prior endeavors mastering the casual cuss,
I opened my mouth finding curses replaced with crying
for my mother, who couldn't hear me,
resting 40 miles away through 6 feet of still soft soil.

Rooted in the same dirt, both my mother and the tree.
Silently vowing to love me well. Keeping each other company
in sediment whispers, echoing.

Every word uttered

whether
offered or obligated
spit or sputtered
graced or given grudgingly 

bears an impeccable pin
point
of potency

Some snuffed suddenly
others
an epidemic

EXPANDING

--Demanding.

Exclaiming!
or
proclaiming

M
­    ai
        mi
              ng 
Blaming--->

Stirring up
and
then
Taming 

Careless sentences 
strewn
over laughing lips

Reiterated recollections 
and
aspirations running hot
on alcoholic
raspberry breath

What weight
but
what worthlessness
what wastefullness

Speech is
an immediate line
to your
purest heart and soul

but

Without
consideration
we are wandering
the mazes of our
very conversation
 
My words and your words
whispered or shouted
were designed to be 
Dazzling

Not crammed in 
uncomfortable pauses

Not vomited 
with cruel intent 

but

powerful and
persuasive
Accounted for
and
appreciated

I was riding in an old blue suburban
packed full of my siblings. All bony knees and elbows
and loud familiar voices.

I gazed through the glass
and forgot myself. I looked like any other
dumb kid day dreaming
about nonsensical things to all the cars that passed.

But my eyes darted to and fro.
I distinctly remember
the irrational panic that sank like
a stone in my stomach

as we flew down the highway.
Always grappling with our irrevocable
tardiness.

My eyes were searching out the
landscape that swept by,
Trying to spot single blades of grass.
Finding inconspicuous shrubs,
concealed branches, and
subtle cracks and crevices.

It had occurred to me that things
do
go unnoticed.

And my five year old brain became bothered.
Grazing the edges of obsessive.

At the time I felt
anguish
for those forgotten.

I wanted to be the careful one.
Observant and
appreciative of those subtle splendors.

Was it simple selfishness?
The enticement of being the only one
to see what I was seeing.

Some early subconscious struggle
with originality. Prematurely grasping for
anything to set me apart.

Maybe a concoction of both.

I just know that I am
here gasping in the cold. Watching clouds of
frost pour from my mouth

And my eyes remain
darting.
From one snowflake
to the next.

Desperate to catch them before
they dissolve into the
nothingness.

We are separated
Like the sky and the earth

You are filled with potential that once felt like expectation
the ruggedness of a thousand wild stallions running to the course of their strong united heartbeats
and of the sweat and blood that you've merited your endeavors with

I am filled with ribbons of gentle caresses and a familiarity with the unnoticed weight long hair brings
determination like that of the tired
ceaseless tide that rises up again each morning
and of sweet and salty compulsions

We are separated
Like the Heavens and Earth

You are more than the smell of leather and Copenhagen
You are more than the litter of miscellaneous items next to an inevitable jar of change sitting on your wooden dresser
an exact replica of the Skaggs males' before you.
You are more than calloused hands and a beautiful voice that crawls out and harmonizes with cicadas in the heavy heat lingering into the August night.
You are more than the millions of melodies you've blessed us with
More than the far away look in your hazel eyes as you master your guitar
More than your hearty laugh that delights my soul
More than your kind spirit
More than your careful words
More than your wise wife
More than your delicate girl that I hear call me Aunt
But these things stack on top of one another
Like bricks of a building under construction
Beams of titanium not unlike a skeleton protude into the clouds
Ultimately creating the tower I will proudly claim as my older brother
Directing my acquaintances' attention to the structure that
in this moment
unfinished even
eclipses the sun
Casts a shadow over me
a cool blanket of security
I know the closer that I draw to you
the less I will see of the shambles of other buildings that never compared to you
My view of the misleading wooden structures behind you that will be set afire or deteriorate in the constant turning of gears in the clock of time
will be obscured by your sheer splendor

We are separated
Like the sky and the earth underneath me

And just like the two we are connected further down
The horizon
where we will meet is filled with bittersweet triumph painted in the oranges and pinks of the sunset
I turn and see the horizon behind me
where we began
in all of its plainess
Our childhood in a gray
Hillcrest Terrace
Friday night prayer
Denim and pattles
Oatmeal and cough drops
Iced tea and lilac bushes
All threaded neatly into the full drops of rain that fall from you to I
Connecting the ground and the sky
I turn back to the front and admire what I imagine it will be
Our children's loose teeth
and long cramped car rides
Porch swings and homeschool books
Owned land and old trees
Laughter and loyalty
Irony and victory

We are separated
Like the sky and the ground

But we run in the same direction
not interrupting the others' path
I was not there with you when you let the heaviness of the thoughts in your head fall into your awaiting hands as your shoulders shook
Every ragged breath tinged with cheap whiskey
But I have followed suit of my own accord
I was not there with you when you questioned your very identity until you wondered if you would  recognize yourself if he called you by name
But I may have been caught contemplating the same
I was not there with you when you were overanalyzing one of our sisters' new boyfriend's character and gauging his deservingness
But I often did exactly that
And I was not there with you when you fell in love with your beautiful lady and decided to make her yours
But I was praying for it to be her

An endless fire burns inside me
Searching for
courage I won't have
and words I can't find
Until I can heat you with these flames
I will continue to look at you while you are preoccupied and let the words choke in my neck as reverence floods me for this man who
like his father
remains oblivious to his massive impact and priceless company

Mother, do you remember,

Four bare feet in spring grass and the smell of laundry soap?
"When are you gonna have the baby?" I asked as we stood on the crest of that *****.
And you glanced through your lashes at my  face filled with hope.

Then you paused while hanging a dress shirt on the clothes line.
The knowing, closed mouth smile you gave was a favorite of mine.
and you said, "Soon, Sugar." Which with me, was just fine.

Mother, do you remember,

My small, sticky hand grasping the gathers of your familiar skirt?
Never intending for these days to end, curt.
Listening to doves sing of melancholy misfortune,  so overt.

The droning of the box fan, winding through a long afternoon nap?
Gentle breath, whispering chill through my  dampened hair, with my head on your lap.
My knobby knee crooked over your long leg, never wanting to unwrap.

Mother, do you remember,

Dad fresh from work, blowing through the door to kiss your cheek, interrupting the local news?
The lapping of ten content voices at dinner each night,  and the twins in their terrible twos.
You read aloud by the fireplace and I was mesmerized with its oranges and blues.

And Mother, do you remember,

Looking pointedly at me, recognizing I was the youngest in the room?
Beginning The End with "I went to the doctor.." and "..cancer," followed soon.
The shadows continued lengthening, on that evening of lilac perfume.

But Mother, do you remember,

How I returned to the street, roller skates on my feet?
Striding out the last of my innocence, like it was some kind of treat.
Unaware of the worry that swept through in a sheet.

Do you remember,

The lock of your silky hair that dropped from my shocked and trembling hands?

Because I remember,

The quiver of my voice as I whispered my love for you into your unconscious sands

Do you remember,
our Preacher's large hands settling on your head as he prayed for his friend through the night?

Because I remember,
feeling sorrow beyond my years make itself at home and not putting up a fight.

And do you remember,
The way your radiant skin turned grey?
The cool rag on your face wiping the saliva from your chin?
The. unsettling loss of something to say?
The guilt that settled in the place of your husband's grin?

Because I remember,
Acting cheerful until I was alone with the water running.
Sinking to my knees as the sobs ripped through me.
The last time you looked at me, sharp wise eyes so stunning.
Silently confirming what I couldn't bear to see.

Oh Mother do you remember,
how dying felt?

Because I remember,
Witnessing my childhood melt.

Your headstone proclaiming,
"If ever there was a saint, this is she"

Angrily I smeared away the tears that escaped,
disregarding my plea.

Mother, do you remember,
You and I,
Me and you?

Because sometimes,
I hate myself when
I struggle to.

His long fingers clenched into their palms
His dark eyes were black with intent
Every elongated pause was an intricate harmony
gracefully accompanying the words
that tumbled from his cracked lips
He heightened himself and leaned in earnestly
Feverish want spilling into his rich voice
revealing the fear that had bloomed in his ribcage over the years
Fear that snaked up his throat and caught there
restricting his temperament
Fear that rose from knowledge of failure

Failure indeed lurked sickeningly
In the frosty air
In the purple autumn shadows
In the smell of hot cement
In the satiny pearl petals of the dogwood his mother had planted

He was a single smooth stone in an endless riverbed
Shaped by
the restlessness that flooded him
the desire that washed over him
the nostalgia that swept around him

Frantic to break out of the flow that was accepted by the crowds
Desperate for the peace that surpasses understanding

And in that moment
his finite experience and crooked path
meant less to her than the last of the cigarette she proceeded to flick into the breeze
Outweighed by her faith in the lighthearted boy trapped inside this troubled man's body