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Z Dec 2020
41
Already buckled in the backseat
I’d want to come to the grocery
And while you’d push the basket
I followed after so closely

We dug up weeds and planted poppies
Gold and vermillion
And I remember I felt my heart drop
When you said you can’t be friends with your children

I remember thinking
If you can’t accept me then how will I accept myself
you taught me everything
If you can’t accept me how will I accept myself?

And I’m not gonna get my confirmation
But I really want to make you proud
I know it’s not what you expected
It’s harder to say some things out loud

I didn’t get the chance to tell you
She told you before I could say a word
And then I didn’t want to talk about it
I ran away, I lost my nerve

You gave me all the space I wanted
That was four years ago
until it seemed like you’d forgotten
Until I moved to Chicago

And I was thinking
If you can’t accept me then how will I accept myself
You taught me everything  
If you can’t accept me how will I accept myself?

And I just want to feel accepted
But I really want to make you proud
I know I’m not what you expected
It’s harder to say some things out loud
Gary Brocks Sep 2018
1.
There was the tremor of leaves,
a rustle of bayonet grass
parried the multihued calm
of dawn's smeared light.
"This is what we trained for," the captain said.
We hunkered behind stacked bags of sand.

2.
Filigreed shafts of light pierce
the bullet perforated leaf canopy,
bellowed yells punctuate the swirl
and buffet of turbulent air:
“Contact”,  “2 O’Clock”, “Incoming”, “
"Moving”, “Reloading”, “Ammo”.

3.
Fingers twitch, the grit of soil
twisted through their grip;
moon slashed carcasses glint, spent shells,
Earth exhales a vermillion mist,
rising, echoless, in this
a cathedral of leaves.
180926F
Juicy persimmon of the color spectrum,
you wait, as paint, for the right brush
to give you an imaginary life.

Live it up! Dance in all your glowing
intensity! Ultramarine now offers you
cooling shade, and a respite from all
that you so vibrantly are.
©Elisa Maria Argiro

— The End —