Mama said earth was born to house souls, like mamas housed babies and mittens housed hands. She said the moon held all earth’s memories, like she held me and daddy held her. After she died, I prayed that the moon would send me her voice, her face, her scent.
I bake you into every dream, every written word, every lost and last second. I tell you you’re my everything, extraordinary and radiant, like bees and skies and seas. You say the world is a fantasy, not many people see it, and crown me its queen.
I try to write you, Childhood, in beautiful prose, scrawl you in silken ink. I try to teleport there, to donuts for dinner, to Chickenpox and calamine lotion, sticking to Princess Ariel pajamas, to bunkbed slides. But you sit on the paper, bathetic, worthless…
You remember our first kisswhen I almost bit your lip? We were standing in the snow.I’ll never forget. You were never judgmental,never heartless, never icy. Didn’t think the day would comewhen you weren’t still beside me. Sleep well, My Love.I’ll be there soon.
Back then, we lost ourselves, faith, minds, in the thick smoke of infidelity, drama, lies exchanged to save face, pride, when in actuality we could’ve been better, had we simply tried.
I write, “A cardinal stopped outside my window and the nurses let me eat pizza.” You write, “Happy Birthday,” and for me to keep my wishes. I write, “I’ll save them for you so one day you can visit.” You write how that would be cool, whenever you feel sick less. I write, “Someday, like […]
I feel so alone here. I don’t know what’s wrong. Wake up and the point is a mystery. I can write these words but they can never be enough. Those I love call it drama, but they don’t me. The quiet is so loud here. These instruments of doubt. Try to block them out but […]
Damn death- swimming through labyrinthine waves. You were here today, kinetic, tangible, I swear I kissed your face. I swear I gazed upon the light you emanate. Damn. Death, the beauty that doesn’t belong to you, why are you so willing to take?
Remember when we were young, and our guns, were filled with water? & we usurped enemies who breached the porch, refusing to obviate wars? & they barked commands from the 2nd floor window, sending their yipping army of snack thieves? & the only aid we needed was Kool?
We found grace in streams of yesterdays and dreams of tomorrows. We found it in interlaced fingers, tiptoeing on snow-covered decks, in late night fingertip massages, reclined, while winter vibes vibe to crackling firewood. Thank God. We found peace.