Carcass

I’m not your thanksgiving turkey
that you carve into.
Pull my legs and slice my breast.
You do your very best
at cutting all my pieces off.
Not a scrap left on the carcass
for the dogs to lick off.

Arrange me on your platter
with a sprig of celery and cut up lemon,
a feast for you made in heaven.
Serve me up in your best china plates,
of fancy painted gold.
You had circled this date
on your calendar
just for me, alone.

I used to run around
in a penned in yard with the other chickadees.
I was kept for dinner, yep
to please the hungry man’s needs,
or maybe just to satisfy the hunter,
being his prize game.
Either way, look at me. Oh, the awful shame!

In my home
there is no ground
to walk on.
Because my home

is high up
in the air. My carpets
are inflated clouds
with silver linings. I left

the earth
and all its worldly
cares. I don’t receive
many visitors. They say

I’m crazy. I don’t plant
daisies.
I plant rainbows.

on the beach
wash away
with the tide
They’re only grains of sand

Castles in the air
disappear
in the clouds
They’re only dreams

Castles in a fairy-tale
dissolve
as you grow up and out of them
They’re only stories

Castles that have foundations
last
a lifetime

What kind of castle will you build?

Someone placed a piece of tape
across her lips.
Now her words cannot escape
or sink ships.

But she still has her fingers.
She can write.
The feelings she has always lingers,
into the night.

Keeping secrets forever is a drag.
She never could.
The cat’s out of the bag
for good!

have to talk about
girls behind their back.
They mock me and pretend
face to face

they are my friend. They could
talk about the weather, if it'll rain
this afternoon. That it's cold for
this month of June. They could talk

world affairs, the war in
the Ukraine. But they'd have to
have a bigger brain. They could talk
about a fundraiser for

the sick. Or even the movies that
they've seen on Netflix. They could talk
about style and design, the newest line
of clothes. The cons and pros of wearing

pantyhose. They could talk about their kids
or their pets/their vacations in the Carribean, wine
and e-cigarettes! They could talk shop. But they
talk about me till their jaws drop!

are sadder now that
you’re gone. I tell myself –
I’m strong. But I can’t go
on. My head races to

all the hours
you’ve made me laugh. You -
my sexier half. All the nights
we spent talking to dawn. The next day
all you did was yawn. Those darkest

hours you held onto me. I just can’t leave
them behind, like branches on
a tree. The glint in those dimples that

rose as the sun. How can I find happiness
now? For I haven’t none. The calendar
shows me its Christmas. But I can’t
celebrate because I miss “us”

Celebrity
Star on the walk
Talk of the town
Spread in the magazines
Money Galore
Parties
Traveling
Mansions
Maids & Butlers
Glory
Paparazzi
Tabloids
Stalkers
Bodyguards
High walls
Electric fences
Small talk
Drugs & Alcohol
Loneliness
Nonentity

Change is Going to Persist

No, they don’t understand me
The clothes I choose to wear
No, they don’t understand me
They just stop and stare
I conformed to them many times
And many times I shut down
So this time if I’m going down
I’m going down as myself.

They’re frustrated with their lives
So they’re pointing fingers
They’re frustrated with their lives
So they’re shooting zingers
And change is going to persist
No matter how much they protest

No, they don’t understand me
The way I style my hair
No, they don’t understand me
They just stop and stare
I conformed to them many times
And many times I shut down
So this time if I’m going down
I’m going down as myself.

They’re frustrated with their lives
So they’re pointing fingers
They’re frustrated with their lives
So they’re shooting zingers
And change is going to persist
No matter how much they protest

No, they don’t understand me
Whom I choose to love
No, they don’t understand me
Exactly what I’m made of
I conformed to them many times
And many times I shut down
So this time if I’m going down
I’m going down as myself.

They’re frustrated with their lives
So they’re pointing fingers
They’re frustrated with their lives
So they’re shooting zingers
And change is going to persist
No matter how much they protest

Cheetah

Don’t be fooled by her pretty smile. She’s has
guile. She’s determined. She’ll curl up in your lap, purr
as a *****-cat. But she’ll claw you alive with her fancy

colored keratin  if you come any closer. She’s masterful
at defending her territory. She’s on the prowl. Hunt or
be hunted; that’s her style. She’s a feral cat in the

wild. With lightning speed she’ll ride you until
you’re exhausted. That’s when she’ll pounce. Then she’ll be
back after the attack  to lick the marrow off your bones. There won’t be anything left for the

scavengers when she’s done.  She’ll use your hair to floss
her teeth after the feast. And paint her lips with your dried
blood. Rouge her face and walk away, scarlet as
the red sea, drier than the Sahara sun, always ready to lunge.

I was mile high like Denver
when he called me from Boulder. So older
than I. Didn't known he was a Picasso,
painting me in cherries jubilee. And so,

I melted inside of
his phone. With the juices still
running I was shunning echoes of
the woman calling to him, mother of

all his kids. The one he wouldn’t
leave me for. Those cherries have
pits. But I've learned how to spit them
out. Lit with the brandy and tasting

like candy he flambéed me. But he
also kept a little French Suzette in his
closet, for the nights he preferred a dish
a little more light.

here. But not anymore.  Instead
of jackets and bags flung over
fences there’s a sign tied to it that says
closed until further notice. Instead of

swings flying high into the sun
they’re just empty chairs hanging on
chains. What a shame. No more sounds
of laughter, children running after

the ice-cream truck. Sorry kid; you’re out
of luck. You got to stay inside your home
so, the virus doesn’t spread.  Go back
to bed. You’ve no playdate. Your friends

can’t come to call. You can’t play
basketball. The field has empty bases. It
disgraces me that they took our playground
away from us. From dawn to dusk - emptiness

if you go outside. The US is
now topping the list for the most
Corona viruses. The sons of *******
that are careless I would like to

put a gun to their heads, myself. Hospital
workers killing themselves to save
everyone else. The supermarket looks
like a scene out of some B-Rated

movie. People donning on gloves
and masks. There’s a security guard to
separate the ***** like eggs. And a taped
line on the floor that measures six feet

wide. Because idiots can’t read
signs. I go home and drink myself
blind.  People are chemicals bombs
with detonators going off. There’s a

******* war outside. When will these
******* open their eyes?  If I used toothpicks
to keep their lids open to seeing this –
read the statistics. This is no time for apathy! Arm

yourself with the facts. Stay alert! You can’t
relax. I won’t be a casualty of this war. The president
is washing his hands of everything. I’d love to fill
his floppy mouth with soap; hang his **** on a rope.

Strangled by the wishes
I made.  Mangled by promises.
Wasted on yesterday. All the years
I believed in you. I drowned in the lakes

I dream of you. When you’re
mobile is strung with stars and moons
and you’re sung lullabies you can't separate
the truth from lies. There’s not a star

that shines. The moon placed shades
on the sun. And made braids with the blades
of grass, so there’s bare patches as I walk.
Big enough to sit in. Deep enough to sink in.

looking at the screen
to land. Running out of fuel,
flying minus an engine tightens up
the suspension. The air is thin

as ma’s hairpin. But the clouds
are thick as a cement brick. Veering
off as a wild horse, bent as his divorce –
circling. If we don’t bring her

down! Pieces strewn! Not all immune
from crashing. I see the signs of
freedom flashing close to
my eyes!

something touched
something seen
heard as a song

Close to me
is in my head
in my heart

Close is the difference
between alive or dead
between passion or existence

Close isn’t anything I can pen
It’s either there
or it isn’t

in the morning stops
my groggy yawning. Has me bright-eyed
and bushy tail, ‘stead of sluggishly as a snail.

Coffee in the afternoon has me floating
higher than a balloon. Gets my **** off the seat. Gets me
jumping to the beat.

Coffee in the evening increases
my breathing, prevents me from sleeping. So, I drink
water instead before I go to bed.

Let me not be sleepers,
the crusty molecules that hoard
your eyes as ants on a paltry crumb
of chaste sandwich meat. So easily disinfected
by the morning wash.

Let me not be the paper wrapper
around your drive-through burger. Even though
I carry the flavor and the grease
long after the meal is gone.

Come Back Again

I keep coming back to this
It’s where I belong
If I stay away too long
I know that somethings wrong
I turn around and then
Come back again

The hummingbird hovers.
He goes backward
as well as forward.

The hawk glides
like a parasail
making circles in the air.

The eagle soars
without flapping his wings –

Lord make me like the eagle
come this spring

when you are sad
when you’re fragile
and shattered
any time
any day –
doesn’t matter
deep in my arms
protected by my embrace
I’ll be you’re rock
I’ll be your falcon
I’ll dive into your problem
when you are fallen
attack them with vengeance
when you can’t start
I’ll be your engine
I’ll be the beams, and the foundation
When dead on your feet
I’ll be your salvation

I wear my stripes
as a zebra in the zoo,
unabashedly and openly.
I could have been a breed
of the most aristocratic registry
of fine lineage of equine
you’d fine throughout history.
I could have been in shows
and won awards.
But instead I sought
the comfort in my trot
and my jail-like uniform.

with truth
and they run
as a herd of elephants
stomping the ground
with elegance
and popping out
as bean sprouts
swimming
in a bowl
as wiggly worms
making their way
back into the earth
because we all know
that truth hurts

The innocence and future of youth lost.
Such a travesty of life at a very high cost.
What feeble mind gets to play God?
Ending all these lives, superfluous fraud!

Empty homes, families shattered.
Sons and daughters, bodies tattered.
We shan't escape the evil, the bane.
What prompted wickedness we can't explain.

All we are left with is the ****** aftermath.
By some form of devil that took its wrath.
Where do we go from here; how do we mend?
And who do the survivors now come to depend?

in tight quarters for hours
like sheep, with scorching heat
beating down. Following
the herds walking around

the ropes like
a zombie for a five-
minute wonky ride that
shakes your inside like a

bowl of strawberry jelly. Strapped
smashed together in narrow
seats is a man with a big belly
that shakes like a bowl of

strawberry jelly. In pitch
blackness surrounded by
screams. Ten thousand dollars
for the American dream!

was a dark bar. The kind
you go when you don’t want to
be seen. After unethical ***
when you are dressed you hide

inside the hole and watch football
on the wall. You can see every play
in this place, no matter where you’re
seated. They’re also generous with

the drinks. They give you the martini
with an extra little glass that has the excess
from the pour, with ice to keep it cold. And all

the olives you can swallow if you’re
too cheap to order food from their menu. You
can go out the back entrance that leads into
the local parking lot if you forgot your money

to pay. This has happened over and again. But
it looks like he just went to the bathroom.

he has fangs
and not teeth? He has
scales and not bangs.

Couldn't she see
he hasn't legs? He slithers
on his belly. And was hatched
from an egg!

Couldn't she see
his pupils are slitted
and cannot dilate or
contract? He'll outgrow her
like his skin once she’s wrapped
up in him. And then he’ll leave her flat.

Couldn't she see
his tongue is split
at the tip like a fork? And in
one little kiss she'll be slabs
of salt pork.

the things to do
picking out the dress
the perfume and shoes
filling my head with his face
filling my face with make-up
taking up space on the bathroom sink
the sun sinking behind a cloud
clouding my eyes in reverie

Counting down
the hands on the clock
till four o'clock
blow-drying my hair
hearing the whirl of leaves
flying from the trees past the picture window
and the caw of the crow
rattling my soul
polishing my speech and nails
brushing my teeth/hopping on the scale

Counting down
the streets to his house
blaring the radio to pop music
rolling down the window and hill
turning the *** to catch a song
he sang to me
fixing my face in the mirror at a red light
butterflies dancing in my tight tummy
my pulse accelerating with the gas
as I pass the numbers of his neighbor's homes

Counting down
the seconds
to his door
crossing the yard
walking past the old Oak tree
following the lighted path
down the brick steps
holding my breath
wiping the sweat off my hands
turning the ***
looking through the glass
this whole day starting now

The trees have covering
in the leaves.
The sky has covering
in the clouds.
The ground has covering
in the grass.
Now I have covering
in this mask.

is making people
Crazy. They’re confusing

a Chinese virus with a Mexican
beer. They’re wearing masks

out of fear. The stores are
closing everywhere. The only

places open in town are the hospitals
and supermarkets.  I go where I want

regardless. Washing hands and hoarding
toilet paper seems to be the thing that’s

favored. Morale is very low. People are
staying in their homes. No visitors,

family or friends. Freedom as we know it
has come to an end.

how to be happy with less,
and how to appreciate more.

Covid taught me
life is fragile.
None know what’s in store.

Covid taught me
not to waste a single minute.
Don’t put off my plans.

Covid taught me
who likes me and who doesn’t.
I know the difference between my enemies
and my fans.

blue ***** dig caves
under sandy rocks
and the smell of salt
boats tied to docks

the gulls swoop low
to catch a bite
and plovers wade
as horseflies bite

footprints make a trail
boys and girls building castles
with shovel and pail
green foamy seas

lined with cockleshells
and balmy breeze
driftwood and seaweed
tangled around my toes

and knees
tanning woman lying
on colored towels
as sunburned baby

in sagging diaper howls
coconut oil
permeates the air
as old folks sit

on navy beach chairs
bags of chips and kegs of beer
and hairy chested men
that often stare

a bunch of teens punch
a volleyball over
a long-stretched net
my nape breaks out

in a sweat
riding surfs on boogie boards
dripping ice-cream cones
sandpipers call this their home

as they lie on nests in the dunes
while radios blare 80's tunes
life's troubles out of reach
a typical day at the beach

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are for birds
scraps
for a dog
the milk

turned
to curds
the air
into smog

this house
splintered
the yard
gone to seed

this bond
overwintered
and now
it is freed

falling off the table
scraps for the dog
****** up from the vacuum
broken pieces from the man's plate
into his lap
as he stood, they fell straight
the bits stuck to his shoes
made their home inside the grooves
embedded in the nest of zigzag
and swirls they rest
so, this is bottom
walked on as leaves in autumn
he couldn't shake me loose
we didn't have a truce

kicking the blue Nike ball
in  what's supposed to be a quiet space
playing video games
two oriental boys
while the internet
is slow as a slug
you could  use a mug
of beer right now
because your patience is shorter
than the pen
buried in your purse
underneath the rubble
of make-up and nail polish
they giggle
and they squirm
in childish boy ways
you wish you had a razor blade
you'd cut out their squeals
as you turn in your heels
to give them a  look of scorn
which doesn't appear to impress them
they smile and just go on

You got worn down by need.
It wasn’t I who changed.
How many times did I bleed?
For you to open the wound even more.
How many times did I lay face down?
For you to pick at the sore.

There’s nothing left but bits.
On top of my chest
an elephant sits.

And he’s crushed all my innards;
pulled all my triggers.

Now I recoil
at the slightest touch
from someone else.

The only crutch I have
is my mouth.

an ocean
You’re lost in
the notion you
have to hold back. I’ve
build a ship. And in every
drip we’ll sail till the tip
and back.

Cry me
a river
You’re lost in
a quiver. But I’ve build
us a raft. And we’ll float
in the draft, lying back.

Cry me
a waterfall
You’re lost in
the squall. But I’ve
build me a bucket. And we’ll
roll to Nantucket breathing from
the crack I’ve cut in the back.

I’m a byproduct of
my making. Proud of
the undertaking. I used to be
blue tinged, watery and thin

sunk to the bottom, discarded
as a bloodied pad. Until I surfaced
and showed them what I had. No
more packing it in as a girdle. Now

I curdle. To you I might be
a clot. But you haven’t seen yet
what I got –
what I’m turning into

and the increasing revenue. No more
Little Miss Muffet –
I’ll be famous as Jimmy Buffet
And living the life I had planned!

Sun is the day
Moon is the shade
Always that way
Over the years love fades
I feel estranged
like black-purple haze
Nothing has changed

Winter is cold
Summer is blistering skin
It gets kind of old
I want feathers not fins
A wider range
We all need a break
Nothing has changed

Awake is for work
Sleep is shutters on the window
Call me berserk
This is not innuendo
And might seem strange
But I’m telling you
Something must change

Even the babe
has to detach. It's part of
the birthing aftermath. As leaves
on the trees in the fall

blow off their colors, red,
gold, and all. So, every branch stands
naked against the crisp autumn
air. And the ground is a blanket

of leaves flying in pairs. Two threads
of yarn woven together, a weave,
unraveling and separating. The
green is now fading into yellow

and blue. Not part of the same
hue. But just as colorful a strand -
not stranded together.

It was scarlet fever when you were
first incubated.  You waited and waited
until the nurse shook that thermometer
violently down. They burned all your toys

everything you had to the ground. No visitors
at all for you. Nothing for you to hold
onto. When they sent you back home all you
had was a timid mother who tried her best

to please your half-siblings and father. You
were the prodigal son because you were the
only one she bore in that marriage. She was  
a ***** who gave up a son out of wedlock

when she was very young. She was too grateful
that anyone would want her at all, even if he was
a ***** old man who liked to run his hands
on the intimate parts of the children. They called

you the black sheep. Made you feel
unwanted. So, you sauntered around the house. And
the voices became your friends. Except they didn’t
say pretty things. They warned you of evil lurking

in your food, lurking in your bathtub, in the
****** pool of feces. And a madman you became. They
labeled you with some name. Gave you medication to
stave off the voices. Enough, I suppose to fool

a wife. But not nearly enough for that wall
of rage. You passed that to me at a tender age. I still
have it today. It reminds me of you.  I wish I could
shake it down, watch the mercury fall. But that’s what
the alcohol’s for.

is what they want
how phony
something that looks and smells nice
little children can ride on
or to decorate someone’s yard –
give it curb appeal
stuff that is in the Hallmark cards
that fluff that gets people worked up
the cute miniature horse
that could never carry a load
bricks and ****** are not their trick
yet I’ve built my life upon it
rats scurry through my yard
all-night panic attacks
the police
and ambulance
coming again
you’ll never see
daffodils or ponies
at my house
but you will find
a mouse scurrying across the floor
and a ton of his droppings
where the dishes are stored

Dance in the flames of discord
Or sit in the shade of compatibility
One’s surely apt to get bored
The other an act of futility

Dandelions

make a nutritious salad. Colored eggs
fill an Easter basket.  Dressing up makes her
feel young. She likes to wear her brown hair
long. At the bar yesterday, a ninety-two year old

woman sat drinking pinot noir, wearing a
bright, orange pumpkin hat she bought at the
Christmas shop. Her secret phrase “one foot in the grave,
one foot on a banana peel” You got to slip and

slide and have some fun. Sit inside, and you
go numb. She learned a lot from that old gal,
who put away a whole meal of meat stew and then
ordered a big dessert too!

what do I need
more grease
for the leverage
more nips
for the beverage
more tucks
for the tummy
more spanks
for the dummy
more somethin
for nothin
more excuses
than uses
confuses the hell
out of me
Dang This
world
Let me be!

Dare to Be

different in a world
that wants you to conform
Stand out from the crowd
Don’t be part of the norm

Dare to be

your own kind of special
Live by your own set rules
That’s what makes heroes
The rest are just fools

in. The days are paper thin
that I can crush them in
my hands like a wafer. It's like
a chafer eating the roots. I can

not flower shoots in a black
tar sky. With coating on my wings
so heavy I cannot fly. I sink
down early like the sun, as squirrels

on the run. Falling like the crimson
leaves, hung over like my roof's
eaves I grow derision in the
gutters.  June, July and August

flutters like a butterfly over hills
and cornflower sky. I retire early to
my grey sofa with a book and a mimosa
to drift off…

Day

has twenty-four hours.
Break it into thirds, fourths for
a moment of clarity.
A form of connection, overzealous

but eager to learn.
The proximity is square and miles away.
Alienation is thicker than the plush
blue carpet with hieroglyphics hard to discern.

Colder than the discombobulated swirls of plaster
stuck on the basement walls.
They’re like swells of the ocean,
they rise and then fall.

Caught on the rhetoric, embellished this time
with triple distilled alcohol, sweetened with cream.
The body, the host is now passive.
She shall acquiesce to the mentors she set up high.

For the terror not, is to get burned.
Nobody changes without a reason.
Give her a reason.
Herself -

Tomorrow she’ll join the others like her/unlike her.
Honoring someone who wrote and died.
Immortal in his words.
If only -
there she said it.
Sprayed it like air freshener.

I’ve taken the ice-cubes
out of the freezer and dumped
them into the thermos on the counter,

so when they cool they will not be square
or formed or hurt my hand when I hold them tight.
They will have liquified.

Dear Daddy


When did my neediness
become too much for you? When did the summer
breeze become a winter chill? Why did the magic go
nowhere? Why did never-never land suddenly


disappear? Why was I expected to grow-up
and out of your love? I could never move on without
your strength to hold and anchor me. That's when I drifted
in and out of states. I might be gifted but I'm nothing without


your embrace. I still need you, daddy, old as I am, married
as I am, with my own children. I still need our times at the park,
the mid-night phone calls, and to hunker down in your warm lap. You were my first love. A woman never forgets her first real male


role model. I was crazy alright. But your love came with a very
high price. You were the only one who knew me at all. What am I
supposed to do now? Who's going to wipe my tears? Who's going to share a slice of heaven pie? Who's going to hang the moon, the

sun and stars? Who's going to pull me back to shore when I go
out too far? Who daddy? You know you're irreplaceable. I'll always be daddy's little girl. I'll always need you. You slipped away too soon. We didn't have enough time. Time robbed me of

everything except the memory. Some days this memory comforts me. Some days this memory burns a hole in me. Some days I smile when I think of "used to be".  Somedays I cry. I cried today when I realized nothinghad changed. I'll never grow-up and out of your love. Never, No, Never Daddy, I Am as I Was.


Love,
Buttercups