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I am an eager child
Blue eyes lighted like candles
When you come into view
I beam
A moment of hesitation
As I wait for you to return the adoration
Surely you’re happy to see me?
who would choose the fate of fire
the apathy of plunge
blade for blood
in the face of death
some of us shine
brighter
as if destruction was our calling
in life
Tonight I break my silence. This is my open letter to you.
You will always be remembered as a vapor
the heat-wet rising to fog the mirrors,
blurring distinction:
When I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw you, too.
But that’s not true
I saw a mirage and what I wanted to see
Last I looked I saw nothing ajar, nothing amiss.
Sentimentality is lost on the broken-hearted.
You fog me no more.
Sun dreams! You are naughty, wakeful spiteful dreams!
Leaving no trace but a whisper, a whisper
Uttered by those who know but stranger to the one whose fate is sowed
In sun dreamed dreams
she came on a Sunday
left on a Wednesday
it wasn’t like it was a special day
she liked leaves
and maybe be leaving too
come to think of it
when it’s time to go
let ‘er go
ears against the wind
flipped inside out
the way they should be
Postscript, if there is such a thing: My beloved beagle, Poppy, has been missing since last Wednesday. She had been playing and running, a delightful sight for a seven-year-old nap-centric dog who’d had cancer (twice!) on one of her legs and an affinity for eating foods deemed “The Most Fatal Foods For Dogs.” The wind in her ears, mouth stretched into a smile, she ran toward me before psyching me out and turning the other way. She trotted off and that was the last I’ve seen of her.
An environmentalist
college professor that he was
told me
It’s called climate change, not global warming
Some places get colder
I’m getting colder
My seas are rising
and my summers are shortening
The end of summer came a month earlier each year, 2008-2010
August -> July -> June
2008 -> 2009 -> 2010
Next year, there might not be a summer at all
[begin transcript]
me: How’s work tonight?
him: pretty slow
him: what u doing up
[it’s 2:02 am on a Sunday]
me: Good question. I keep waking up.
me: Are we gonna still see each other or…?
him: Yah I have to you about that but don’t want to do it over text
me: ok, not a conversation I’m looking forward to but I get what you’re saying.
him: sorry I’ve been so distant
me: I’m good at reading the writing on the wall. Let’s just leave it at that for now.
[end transcript]
[end relationship]
“you know what comes next,”
I say to him with a sad smile
it’s a smile I think he’ll come to know well
>>>>>>>
on my lips
a song from yesterday
words not quite audible
not quite decipherable
the melody doing the work
working the doing
working the words
slowly forming
on my lips
I awoke to screaming lips
a sigh beyond
teeth clenched
with an image in mind
blood plastered image on my mind
blood splattered image on my mind
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