And she wore
black eyes in her pockets
and when she cried
her jeans went red.
my baby speaks with the
tip of her tongue on the
back of her teeth.
and every time I hear her speak
her beauty
makes me weak
and I'm down on my knees.

He clings to the bible
carrying it as if were a dog carrying dead fowl
its stiff brown spine
sometimes I wonder what kind of
clicks and and sparks happen in
that maze of a mind
staring with shiny slack lips
they reflect the heavens I’m sure of it
although usually avoid his eyes
there’s too much turbulence.

Seven on my neck, six on my chest, five on my hands, one on a thigh, and one on each knee.

Scar one; Our voices were cut mid-sentence when you swerved onto our side of the road.
Scar two; For the first time, Time was in slow-motion. You made it possible to count the silent seconds.
Scar three; Seven seconds in, my mum cried a religious code, "Oh my God!"
Scar four; You made me believe that's the last thing I'd hear before I'd leave.
Scar five; ... Will we survive?
Scar six; My heart kicks in gear, blood flows to areas that suspect a mother's worst fear.
Scar seven; We're far from Heaven.

Scar eight; August 29, 2007. You made me remember this date.
Scar nine; The words I manage from my ****** throat that night, "Is everyone alright?"
Scar ten; You showed me magic tricks were real. The bowl in my hands vanished with the help of the air bag, sending pieces to the back for another life to steal.
Scar eleven; Can you possibly imagine feeling, but not seeing your cold, stinging, cut throat singing? Singing red, just pouring your heart into it?
Scar twelve; You set two fires to feed. One in my heart and one on my knees.
Scar thirteen; My brother hadn't seen anything but smoke when he woke from his dreams.

Scar fourteen; I know you're a father, have you met mine? No, you were gone before you could tell him his family wasn't fine, and that you may have had a little too much wine.
Scar fifteen; Like a mother duck rushing her ducklings across the road, you put mine in full-mother-mode.
Scar sixteen; When the paramedics came, they mistaken the taco salad for my brain.
Scar seventeen; The way you leaned on our totalled car, smoking a cigarette, not a scratch on you, not a sign of regret.
Scar eighteen; After the hospital, you made it almost impossible for Nan to get me into her car.

Scar nineteen; My friends waited 'till late, crying, thinking I was dead, and my mother and brother, dead. Have you ever had someone mess with your head?

Scar twenty; July 23, 2012. I got my driver licence. And by now, they've probably given your's back to you. This isn't your first time, this isn't my first rhyme.
Scar twenty-one; Driving at night, every night, I still see your headlights right in front of me. My body is still braced so don't you think you left no trace.

Scars. I had more but they've healed. I have 21 scars that you meant because at that number, that's no 'accident'.

I stopped to,
capture a photo,
of the leaves upon the damp,
ground,
then I stood and,
looked around,
peace,
quiet,
no one in sight,
for this moment was my very own,
a gift from,
above,
or just around,
a beautiful second,
in my stressful life,
to breathe deep,
and get some,
relief,
something seemed,
wrong in capturing it,
for it would steal away,
it's lovely features,
they would rust over,
and begin to fall away,
no,
this is a moment,
that no one would ever know of,
no replication could be made,
not even in written words,
could I express,
the freedom in these eyes,
my spirit lifted high,
my lips parted,
ready to participate,
in something gorgeous,
for this is the first day,
in many days,
that I felt truly,
alive,
for the right,
reasons,
for the seasons,
changing,
for the earth spinning,
for my hair growing,
for my eyes seeing,
for my existence being.