"smoldered" poems
Like a captive, I capture rapture wrapping around stakes that matter
Joan of Arc battered
Also tattered but, easily dismissive
Refracted from fractured prominent phrases people play with
Distinctly persuasive and evasive, dressed boyishly attractive, lax stature, dawning armor crafted by absence as if asked about it-
I’m drifted
Protection is principle prerequisite, when fire is lit
I sort of implore your aorta before it’s incinerated to ashes
Dethatched as a habit, with swords or hatchets crafted to singe heartstrings that attached it
While I slash slick Rick as a quick fix,
To fend for pretend pretenses or presumed tricks,
I can’t quit
Cause I hit lips against hash spliffs fashioned with dashes of passion all while rationing fireball cinnamon sips
Martyr to avoidance
I gaze at fabled dazed gossipers galvanizing grips on gritty grapevines while licking warning labels through smoke haze on blurred lines
Capably unstable
Other eyes attending scandal circles able to shout lies and rekindle handed arguments on tables with locked smiles stay boxed in
Avidly amiable
Searching for counterparts when combusted or branded
Toying with matches loses meaning when rules reseed
Those vagabonds claim love is some all end hard bent to mend what the same above can’t comprehend.
Breaking boredom, I pillage pillows with night terrors
And ardent arsonists yearn for flames that churn, turn, liquefy and learn learned thoughts and smoldered feelings
Completely complacent
Melting in one another they are completing each other like two candles tryst true at a wedding day
However later the blaze is severed, smoke sears, and charred black wick stands alone for them.
Aggressive and progressive.
As for me never pleading, fire forever fleets to streets between iron bars I built that cage in deep heat and seep dire dreams once desired
Suppose I’m a skeptic
Roasted or disconnected
Just jaded, just met you
Always over it too soon
Burnt but I’m amused.
I’m useful.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
Stereotypes manifesting always,
(Always)
Trying to form themselves from something once seen,
But not really believing in oneself,
I see ignorance,
I see arrogance,
I see the lack of hunger,
Observing such savage pride of life,
I run from it all into a previous state,
(Anonymity)
I've reached the heights of total in-completion,
I build walls of isolation upon myself,
I am the collateral default of widespread degradation,
I stand in the gap between teeth and consumption,
I am the breed conceived by prey and predator,
Widespread suspended animation: that is our future,
We've tried to replicate the human makeup with mechanical frames,
And the translation of electronic gates,
Yet this is a folly,
For staring at the mirrors of selected life in an artificial environment,
Numbs our lives with emulation and self delusion,
The days of nobility dismantle into fragments and sink to the bottom of the glass,
Never to be turned over again,
Scattered,
Living among remnants of a life once lived with some sort of intensity,
Now smoldered in a quite ferocity of anger beneath the surface,
(Quiet tremors coming in flames)
Because we don't live our dreams,
We stand in the shadows of ruins,
We are afraid of the future,
We are afraid of the past,
Where does that leave us?
Leave me?
I stand on the edge of The Void
I'm holding myself hostage in the self sabotage entourage of the usual suspects,
Our friends, our families,
Disconnected with all intentions of coming together,
Because they die in front of their screens,
Not really living,
Right?
Light pollution massacre...
We'll fall like stars
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 11:58 PM UTC
When I opened my eyes I sat in this body.
The wind ran through thick black hair.
Grass surrendered under my heels.
I didn't hate myself then, or yet, or ever.
Even now, when I part the clouds and look down down,
squinting into the tops of trees that were in my yard.
In the last home I knew, gentle hands fed me food.
We joked and my eyes smoldered for their pictures.
Why did they always take so many pictures?
You probably think I'm angry I had to leave like this.
That with one terrified bullet from two firmly planted hands,
my might and power and God given beauty did not move.
I remember that moment. The air was swept from my lungs,
through my lips, and two angels descended on my animal form.
My soul wound around one of their slender gray fingers,
while the other angel folded up my skin into a cavernous pocket.
We ascended into lush tropical rich radiant paradise--who knew?
Animals are allowed here.
Sometimes I wonder what might have happened if I could have morphed into human form in the right moment.
When I became human, they became animal.
You see, an animal is that which is unpredictable and wild;
terribly aggressive.
But people were scared. Now they have more reason to lock up
their kids behind bright little screens as they push them in secure strollers.
"Look at this game. Isn't it fun? Mommy's here. You're in a belt. You are
safe."
I just heard a sob from below. As I think these thoughts, I can sense
she is crying and missing me, missing a creature she never knew.
She sees God in me. She sees God in everything around her.
To shoot me was to shoot her spirit in the chest, to watch the blood
form in pools while people watched and put away their cell phones
and pushed their strollers to the next set of bars. On to more eyes that hide their secrets from the humans.
[in memory of Harambe the Gorilla]
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 12:35 AM UTC
that night with no sleep
it rest in my head
with the smell of cigarettes
floating through the air
ladders were placed at a window
we made cookie dough i believe
around midnight the real night began
poems read allowed
with words lingering
far into to the night
out in the cold many cigarettes
smoldered in each hand
i lost count as to how many
after three
on the brink of dawn
i sat with coffee in hand
on top of my cold car roof
waiting for the sun to rise
clever words come to mind
as old acquaintances come
and judge me for sitting
and writing about what i see
after a walk
to clear me thoughts
i decide on donuts
with box in hand i climb
up the ladder to a dear friends room
curl up in bed
there i stay till noon
that sober night is my favorite
to remember
not a thought of sleep
only words carefully written
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 2:34 AM UTC
*Electric Dreams Of My Radioactive Ex,
Bio-Digital Jazz Tap Dancing Us Into ***
Lucid Infatuations Infused In Whiskey,
Cupid Fairytales Conceiving Frisky,
A Perpetual Beauty Smoldered In Ecstatic Bliss,
Sublime Sins Between Her Rosy Lips With Velvet Kiss,
Romantic Burns Galvanized In Her ****** Desires,
Seductive Stardust Enchanting My Feisty Fires,
Encoded Serenity In Her Decoded Virginity,
Recoding Obscenities Of Her Fragrant Sexuality,
Hazel Echoes Raining Intimate Bouquets,
Rekindling, Her Drug That Fondles In Her Moaning Glaze,
Enraptured Catalysts Animating In Her Cuddles,
Euphoric Elations Climaxing Into Her Satin Snuggles.
- 02:17AM -*
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 5:00 PM UTC
*i saw you
i saw your fiery eyes
it was like looking into a cup
unstoppably filling up to its brim
yours, abundantly filled with vehement grim
so uneasy it was conjecturing your mind
gave me a reason to unwind for a little while
tell my why
all the pretends and quiet sighs, enshrouding whats from behind
what it is there inside
why do you need to hide
thy precious heart with no choice
but to turn itself into an agitated smoldered iron
strengthened heart, furnished like art
you are a burning metal amenably hammered by many foes
far more drowned with the empty souls
where are you, where is the real you
how did your soul turn so blue
let me condole
drilling poles amidst the cold
rendering you a hand and something to hold
I will find yours
along with all the lost
long hoarfrost
waiting to be accost
along with the alley of souls
growling down the holes
in line, next to mine
unleash a shine, your spirit so divine
let your caliginosity be replaced
all be thy grace shall be embraced
this time, fearlessly
without minds controlling slavery
cutting the negativity and
ignoring life's declivity
see yourself walking through the flame
no more lames
without the shame and doubt getting burnt
stepping on with something learnt
now you are changed, well-transformed,
someone born to aspire, died meant to inspire,
honey you are retrofire, firing in the night sky
but not as heaping as an empty pyre
but as fierce as an enraging forest fire*
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 9:39 AM UTC
sara left me on the 14th of may,
while my mentor laid dying,
while my debt went unpaid.
over routine coffee and cigarette,
she watched the flimsy fabric
of my flesh
catch flame.
she floated away
to ricochet off summer lions,
whose pride lies between their
worn thighs.
i planted heavy.
aged a century in a week of
wine, infomercials, and hospital
calls.
every mutual friend i asked
about sara's condition,
told me to leave her be,
cast me in creep status.
my beard grows gnarly.
my smoldered remnants
held together by cobwebs.
and everything i ever loved
is on its deathbed.
Jul 7, 2010
Jul 7, 2010 at 11:33 PM UTC
girlworm, you grab a wrist like you've known modesty in the shyness of a bare feeling gripped tight on the one offering it
tightrope fingers falling into the spaces of unspoken territory, slipping into familiar qualms like the worn lipsticks that fits the grooves of my lips like an object of my affection
knowing the contour of what i'm never aware of
anxieties creep like an overgrown lawn
these fears personifying into antsy women invading my kitchen telling me that there's not enough ventilation and the stove is on leaking gas into the baby lungs of a young smoker
and when i begin to argue they give both a look of sympathy and disgust as they say "oh child you drown so easily"
so i sit chewing my nails as i count the birds outside flying back and forth from their post as if they can't remember where they're going towards or if there's something that could possibly pull them elsewhere
my mind swirls in the smoothie of a plastic cup that sticks to the coffee table, the rings of different bottles painting circles for me to memorize again
my paradise sits with the roughness of his knuckles and the ambiguity of eyes that could know everything and i would set fire to the stars inside because of the jealousy that grows from pretty things being smoldered under skin
when i begin to lose my person, pale and shivering i go towards it
empty stomached and ready to be buried in the clothes of her
that i can imagine becoming the consistency of yogurt in my lap
kissing back my tremors as i lift up her hair from curious shoulders
dry-heaving the importance of the cheeks that feel warmer as they settle on hands that are brought together as if in deep prayer and i know i will collect myself again one day
girlworm, you're a swarm in my chest and i am me
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 11:50 PM UTC
I was miserable when you left.
I cried for hours and days.
But now what I feel is undoubtedly the most contradictory emotion I've ever felt,
I don't think I'll ever forget you.
You were my enchanting fantasy which abruptly ended on a sad note.
You were my first mesmerizing emotion of utter utopian devotion.
You were the drop of Jupiter that dripped upon my hair and left me wild.
You were the fire of the purest passion that burned me alive.
You invoked the deepest desires from the darkest corners of my mind.
You loved me when I considered the meaning of love as a waste of time.
You left me as if I was a pariah on the pedestal of a sacred shrine.
You disappeared like Houdini as soon as the lamp lost its light.
You abandoned me and vanished like a phantom, right out of my sight.
You were the myriad of perfection that seemed so lovely to be deceptive.
But when you left, it felt like a shard of glass ripping through my heart.
It hurt, and I screamed the most melancholic sound.
My devotion turned toxic and it spilled like acid on the ground.
Smoldered the memories of the best times and charred the symphony that my soul sang out.
So what I'm trying to say is that I don't think I'll ever forget you. Neither will I ever forgive you.
I'll think about you for the rest of my life. Till the day, the sky falls down and engulfs us in its light.
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 8:37 AM UTC
Southern shells – or longitude
it’s rude to discuss such a rough location – but I’m a *****
to such provocation.
destiny’s Vacation
in a nation
with ****** – nonchalantly run a muck.
total *** or ******** visible I don’t believe the natives can purchase *****
a loss of bucks is inherent to those who want.
bring your paranoia to a paranormal place where
paintings haunt
or move around after your heat signature.
can he make this
make meaning?
i am the dignitor.
a broken side of a square to settle the score
if you weren't sure.
stressed to proceed with thee program.
the waves can crash on shape and
make ham
sandwiches
which is beautiful.
in the eye of the beholder, hold on I’ve smoldered
all of my calls.
put a hold on the fourth wall – I can
and swam into the shallow.
tribune myself to the tropical Loch Ness
fall fourth to the shadow.
let us Dive further.
amphibious herder of the deep
stay afloat on a personal boat
to return to sleep.
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 3:17 AM UTC
The small minded humor those seeking relief.
It’s all or nothing, with empty decisions.
Spreading smoldered fragments, these ******* lies.
It's quite the disease - the naive listeners.
Hurt and Bias hold our hands.
Jul 13, 2010
Jul 13, 2010 at 10:50 AM UTC
If you were a corpse accepting cremation
I would be the flame
that lavishly licked your flesh,
the heat, heaped for your hair on a pyre
the last peril your boney body submits to,
making the air all around stink of you.
Forget the fact that you corrupt my mind,
it’ll only work out if your thoughts stink of me.
If for one second during
your self worshipping, wistful stares
into a mirror that drips a musty condensation
that lingered from your skinny, ****
torso after your morning shower, you
stand there smile *******
yourself with puckered lips and
un-dilated pupils, flirting with
camera phone pixels you think to yourself;
* Should I post me on myspace?
Should I send a text message pic to myself?
Should I forward it to that guy that I met
to make him think that I’m burning for him?*
If for that second I could be but that spark,
an after thought flare that gets you to want
more than what it is that you got,
where would you go?
With whom would you make yourself over?
I’m waiting for the morning your ashes
wake next to me; smoldered and spread out over my
mattress and under my breath, and
your eye lashes charred with clunky mascara
crumble as you replay in your silly head
the late mass I celebrated last night
when I exhumed and inhaled
that same condensation;
Little taste droplets of you then exhaled
from me to your golden tin flesh
that burned you to ******
Because of my tempered tongue you
cravingly bathed with,
because of your hair I feverishly wrapped
round my fists as
my head altered and smoothed out from whiskey
bounced waves of frivolous
thrusts pulls releases,
pushes twitches friction
in perfect timed fashion
between your radio
antenna thin legs
and your rib meat torso
you forced my lips unto.
That will be the night
you will come.
Yeah, that’s right
SEE YOU MMM-hmmm,
I will see you melt on that night.
And it will be your cremation.
Sep 22, 2010
Sep 22, 2010 at 1:09 PM UTC
i love her tender,
i hold her tinder
i told her as her
cylinder smoldered
keep the cinder.
© Matthew Harlovic
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 11:09 PM UTC
The soft padding of my running feet,
Rhythmically ran at a hypnotic beat.
My legs moved smoothly, forward and back
Propelling me faster, across the race track.
A quick glance behind showed that I was in lead,
While the rest of the group tried to quicken their speed.
I focused my run, tried to steady my pace,
I’d a long ways to go, had a long run to race.
When all of a sudden I spotted near my side,
A quick paced runner, with a long-legged stride.
He smiled at me like he’d already won,
Yet he looked really happy, like this was great fun!
I smoldered inside cause I had to win,
Not some dumb idiot with a stupid looking grin!
I ran ever faster and soon was ahead,
Yet the long-legged runner just laughed and then sped.
And once again he was in lead of the group,
My body felt exhausted and I started to droop.
This wasn’t fair; I had to get past him!
Though my lungs were burning and my eyesight was dim.
I barely even noticed when he ran o’er the line,
To win the race, which should have been mine.
I realized with a start as I gasped for air,
That though he’d won the race I didn’t even care.
What mattered was that the race had been fun,
And now it was over, now it was done.
The thought made me smile put a laugh to my lips,
While I opened my water container and took a few sips.
It wasn’t about competing; I didn’t care if he’d won,
All that really mattered was that I'd had fun!
Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 3:33 PM UTC
Love is an unsolved mystery
Fine like scenes spilling from favored and crowded memories to stand as two who honor each other
This plays off one against the other one strong one soft one invites tenderness the other craves to give it
There is no greater fit a head laid on a shoulder an arm encircling the fulfillment a fire burns for another
Spark was the signal at great depths there it smoldered the knowing of combustible lives ignited eyes
Nothing sweeter untreatable once the heart is smitten clueless the heart leads the way two it will sway
No matter what others miss but sight is given it sees pure and true virtue its soul deep lives unite untold
The story might go here and there look closer the sewing of a single garment has begun an altar one day
Love crowns a single man and a woman the colors of their lives are fused they hang galleried in a home
From courses quiet different now form the central issue of all life whatever differences they are a family
Souls speak without words in this towers rise and create monuments the hearth’s warmth blesses each
In a world where divides and cold indifference creates lonely hurting ones come pained yet leave calmly
As one who observes intently and knows things at deep levels you reveal secrets that even you miss
A book has many pages some of the best lines ever written came out of dreams your life is one story
The swelling filling of the void takes time and effort a measureless happiness brimming full covers you
You don’t need introduction on this page you live all I have said flows out from your incomparable glory
Thank you for a story that is ageless filled with promise continues in days with love’s boundlessness
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
The kisses were empty
And touches blase'
I felt the disconnect
Long before I felt
You between my thighs
The tide was premature
And the flood pointless
Passion flourished fire
Love so demure
Thoughts became hushed
Under layers of lust
Clouded need
And as the fire fueled
Explosion didn't last
A lack luster come down
There was no way out
I was surrounded
Scarred where
Your fingers singed my skin
Scents of misplaced emotions
Smoldered between the sheets
Invading any space untouched
By our feinding bodies
Breath became stolen as
Faces became backs
Once again clothes covered
The naked truth
My eyes closed
Echoing the click of the lock
Stamping out the faint embers
Of what used to be
I felt the disconnect
Long before I felt
You between my thighs.
Mar 6, 2010
Mar 6, 2010 at 3:43 PM UTC
I found you leaning over the balcony,
gazing into a world that was becoming
an illusion to you, smoking a shrinking
cigarette.
I never knew you as one to smoke,
But I suppose that everyone
Has their surprises to the world.
Your eyes burnt like coals, staring until
everything before you smoldered to dullness,
the intensity
of your gaze could burn
down any hopeful living thing
to an ashen pile of decay.
Your disillusionment brought you here,
guided by
the optimistic notion, that the other side
of the garden bears riper fruit.
You traveled here with weary eyes, your hope
diminished to find the same dust
of your native dystopia
lingering on the bottom of your shoe.
I could feel you burning from here,
Your sweat glistening face lit
by the cigarette flame and moonlight,
Your shoulder tensed by the touch of my hand,
As you said to me,
How the stars seemed so close,
glowing together,
seeming inches apart in the sky,
But they were oblivious of eachother,
as they burnt unmindfully
billions of miles away.
I stood by you feeling the refreshing bitterness
of the cooling Autumn air,
oh, how we stood inches apart, you and I,
and had since grown billions of miles
away…
Oct 1, 2011
Oct 1, 2011 at 11:57 PM UTC
For a week straight, I avoided going to the supermarket, even when my stomach grumbled and the fridge stayed empty and lonely. And instead, I looked through my binoculars from the tree house my dad had built with a few planks of wood, nails, and a rusty hammer. A place he’d built before I was put into my mother’s arms and put into a bright blue cradle. Blue as the shirt Abigail was wearing, the same day the cops busted her for giving head to my best friend Isaac in my Toyota Camry. Right in the middle of the parking lot of the supermarket, as I bought pancake batter and cage-free eggs for breakfast.
And Abigail never ate that meal after she spent a week wasting away in a cell block, reading JD Salinger stories over and over, as though his words could heal her marks and bruises.
Today, I made pancakes and eggs for breakfast. I waited for the TV to load a Netflix show, hoping Abigail had learned from her mistakes. She passed me the salt and pepper shakers, as I lit a cigarette, sat in a chair, and smoldered.
Abigail put her face in her hands, cried for a bit, even reached for the ***** bottle.
We went to the supermarket later, walked down one aisle, and picked up meat and potatoes. As we headed for the self-checkout line, I passed the breakfast section and saw the pancake batter and the eggs. Abigail crumbled to the floor, said, “I’m so sorry.”
After that, we never touched breakfast.
Jan 18, 2017
Jan 18, 2017 at 5:27 PM UTC
Undisguised not camouflaged
Standing out, A bright sun
in the blue sky stars hidden
within go unnoticed by the
Indifferent world Trapped
in their own cocoon of delusions
Unable Unwilling to metamorphose
to the beauty of kindred nature
into a free fall spiraling down
into the mundane
Illusion of Solid crust
beneath which the turbulent
molten lava flows
sometimes bursting out
yet another times causing
Tsunami and tremor
And yet the indifferent world
lays blinded by floodlights of duty
warming blanket of empathy
shredded by scissors of hate
buried within the grave yard
under the tombstone of misery
The different who rise up
from time to time are consumed
by the indifferent
like a flash of lighting absorbed
by the indifferent earth as storms
of war thunder around in dusky
skies and innocent plants take refuge
in purging rains only to be flooded
out into the indifferent sea of documentaries
only to make a trickle of frozen blood flow through
the chambers of tranquil heart
and indifferent yet try to contribute
subduing the thorny vines of growing guilt
by a click of like or share or Tweet
Sometimes the silent song
is heard through the sonorous
souls within mind and winds
of change blow nucleating through
an idea propagating through words
symbols of art hitting the conscience
and arise the single conscious crowd
not the raging temporary mob
new sprouts of generation rise up
through the barren land
and art forms inherently provide
what people need dragging from
the oblivion of what people want?
as bright illusion of illumination
is smoldered through enlightening
darkness as indifference transforms
into glowing luminous flowers of empathy
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 1:50 PM UTC
With all the innocence of old friends, wrapped in silent hoping, knowing but afraid to believe. The heart beats a bit faster as the words become free. No longer chained in what came before. Transformed by insight, a vision sent to each of us alone. And in those words were hidden truths that underlay what came before. A true affection melts in heat into a fire that burns free.
**With a breath was lit
What had always smoldered there
Ablaze on a wire**
Tentative in this new-found freedom. We touch delicately, lingering on the words that electrify the flesh and liquify defenses. Steam wafting in the air as emotion meets desire. Intoxicated by the ethereal beauty of it all. Left reeling, hearts traded, souls tangled and the lascivious nature of what was once hidden ravages the senses.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
the door opens to Neko's Grill
I turn, as I do with the opening of any door,
expecting it to be Anna, expecting her
face to go from that smilerest to that
statuesque, expecting that stone
to send me to her side in the hospital,
the time when the pills took too fast
and she didn't carry it out,
hospital gown, grey dots, white backdrop
my glasses filled up
and I watched my tears land on Anna's
cheek,
she wiped them away
"I love you" didn't bridge the space
in the waiting room
I poured a cup of coffee for her grandpa
I brimmed it
stupidly
and his shaky hands burned
and he told me he couldn't talk to me
and I knew why
so when he bellowed
the whole agony of the whole
human famile smoldered out of him
he leaned against me
we both burned
but the woman who walks
into Neko's isn't Anna
she's a decade older at least
her brunette hair tucked into
a knitted cap
she looks confident
quiet, if a person can look quiet,
and I wish she would say
I forgive you
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 12:06 AM UTC
Fire flies undulating in rhythm with staccato lightning flashes.
Campfires that have smoldered down into cinders and ashes.
Scintillating swaths of planets and stars that illuminate the night sky.
In my moment of time these sights and more have brought you to mind.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 5:51 AM UTC
My ribcage shatters apart to expose
Splintering fragments of brittle bone
I scrape them up into a pile
Offer them to you with a smile
Carving into this sordid heart of mine
With ink spilled from the grip of your fingertips
It spells the words I've never heard
Uttered from the sinister curls of your lips
And the lusting lick of your desire across my death bed of wilted roses
I feel your hunger devouring what's left of mine to give
Your kisses I repress with my tongue
But I'll give in until you're done
I'll beg for more down on knees with prayers
when our course has had its run into the immolation of the sun
We'll end our affairs and leave it unrepaired
dwelling in the darkness that we've built upstairs
I fall into your black tracing scars upon your attack
I feel the bones break in your back
When we collapse our arms around ourselves
Holding tight into a mendacious night
seething with tumultuous roars
Our bellies hungrily ache for each others' taste
We satiate ourselves until the early whisper of dawn
Leaving our scars in scraps of flesh and song
The bite of your bitterness sings along
So tattered I leave beside you
So shattered I break inside you
So torn to be reborn without you
We mourn the morning of our scorn
Pressing it into the palms of our hands
Pushing deeper this belly ache of rotten thoughts and perceptions
Those secret discretions buried clear in our deceptions and flatlined intentions
We have lived this life we give with smoldered chances rendered
Not a moment to spare for the tired or mentored
Guided by the guilty jilted mistakes of our indiscretions
Our hands are bathed in the blood of our love
It takes every ounce of me not to give in to reminiscing of missing what we're dismissing
We're lost searching with no profound calling to take hold of our hands and lead us into the light
just speechless apparitions given into desperations of heartache and failure
seeking a savior to release this pressure building inside the beating of our entwined hearts
Aug 23, 2012
Aug 23, 2012 at 10:46 AM UTC
When my grandfather passed away, my brothers and I held my dad with slanted eyebrows and stiff, silent upper lips. Because we are young and foolish and still learning. Because we’d never really had to do the holding before and, as far as we knew, this is how men mourn.
We dusted antique left-behinds with delicate, moth-wing hands that fluttered here and there and never stopped trembling -- dead giveaways that within the corridors of our arms our heartbeats went stampeding, arrhythmic. We couldn’t quite bend them into the proper shape for prayer, so instead we ran them, with touch somewhere between float and feel, along every ashtray and age-stained picture album. In that moment I think we each wished that memory read like braille, but no one ever said as much. Because this is how men mourn.
We honored our patriarch with whiskey, hidden away for what must have been twice my age, between the carved out pages of old stacked books.
We drank like secrets. His portrait played witness.
We promised between our teeth with tinged lips tight, keeping words in that might otherwise crumble us like great ancient empires.
We singed and smoldered in a burn that coated our throats, quelling a choke that kept climbing its way up from a chest that never quite stayed sunk. Boys grow up loving the clinking twist of unlocking deadbolts but men peek through keyholes. Because this is how men mourn. Silent and straight with head only slightly slanted.
But when my father betrayed his rigidity with words that clicked clean like unfastening locks, we traded this stale air in for wind laced with the electric taste of thunderstorms. We forgot how men mourn.
When my grandfather passed away, my brothers and I held my dad with lightning behind bleared eyes. Because we are young and foolish and still learning. Because we have umpteen days left to dress in bittersweet vestiges and, as far as we know, this is how men live on.
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC