underneath strewn Fall
scholar sticks and poetry,
lay at ease, most glad.

on the canvas
i drew her
across, around
within, without
in all colour and shade
of great cities
and their country.

her eyes as London
and the cheeks as Tanzania;
her palms as Athens
and the shoulders all
Himalaya -

every bone or edge in
wonderful chromatic.

the canvas changed and bled,
as did i but
by year’s end, the mosaic,
worldly woman was now
rested there in full.

stood in blank
dark
mossy room
covered in art and age
i called upon her name

but alas
i could no longer remember.

The crew of ****** all hide their own secret loneliness. At every port the deserted dance halls beckon, and there they dance with familiar ghosts. At twelve midnight sharp the spirits disappear along with the tuxedoed band and the music dies leaving red white and blue tinsel, miniature plastic flags, and balloons that glide and bounce to a solitary, prolonged note.
The sailors cease spinning and their arms drop to their sides. They drown in bottles of *** in search of solace. They rarely find barely a taste. And so, in frustration they fight and draw first and last bloods. Now, in scuffed shoes and torn clothes, with damaged pride, they stagger arm in arm back to ship.
The water laps and licks it’s tongue like a cat at cream and the crew whisper breath rings in the chilly air.
Master Chief Petty matron mother waits on deck, rolling pin in hand, kicking backsides into cabins.
The ship bobs and dips in rhythm to sailors heaving snoring chests, and there they sleep, fly catching open mouthed, hugging their pillows in desert island dreams.

Copyright Marc Hawkins 2009

sometimes i wonder where she went, that girl. who used to love to dream and read and write and draw, who was so passionate. i wonder why she isn't here with me now, where she went, if she went anywhere at all. if she eroded away with time and if i might find her sediments still somewhere, being tossed around in the waves of my mind. if she was startled from that dreaminess when the alarm clock woke her because she was only a dream, if she ever felt tired enough to go back to her old self. sometimes i wonder if she died, if i missed her funeral, if she even had a funeral (and if she did, who would go? she didn't have any friends), if her body is still rotting somewhere in the cracks on my skull. because that's where she's fallen—in the cracks.

i think about her too often. I am too caught up in the past and future, i don't even recognize the present when it's staring back at me in the mirror.

the words have left me.
i am so lonely without them.
i am so lonely without her.

i write her obituary over and over in my head but none of the words sound right. she was great, she was awesome, she was more than that. she was a dreamer, an artist, she was more than that. she had thrown her head into the sky and rejoiced to see it floating amongst the clouds. no, she was more than that. still more than that.

because i miss her.
i really ******* miss her.

i've said this to myself so many times they're carved into my skull, tatooed onto my lips, blackened my teeth with their ink. i've said it so many times but it doesn't bring her back. i miss her more but that doesn't bring her back either.

i should use my time resourcefully and try to find myself while she's gone but i'm nothing without her. without her i'm just a headless body navigating the streets of newyorkcity at 3a.m. i get lost when i'm alone and i can't stand it. i am a simile without the adjective, just two nouns that don't know what to do with each other. i am getting lost now, writing this.

Let's
Make
Love
With
These
Words
Open Our hearts
And fly High like birds
But ground our emotions
Like the roots in which Mother Earth planted
Take a chance and make an alpha(bet)
It will take more than 26 letters
to show that we are lovers
Of all the words I could use to describe our love
I pick (serendipity)
because clearly we were meant to be
and it happened (unexpectedly)

Sweaty p(a)lms
Perspiri(n)g pits
Pounding headache, comple(x) thoughts
Heart rac(i)ng at a fast pace
Eyes focus(e)d on burdens
Thoughts compe(t)ing to finish a pointless race
Empt(y) heart seeking comfort

Emotions fighting to be expressed
Mouth dry, stomach turning, soul burning
Pain left to explain what's happening within