Sunday, June 24, 2012

two fingers and a promise

i cannot tell you
how we speak
without words
and as a poet
should deny the possibility

it came from her
like water from a rock

blessed are you, child
a maker of peace

she spoke without quotation marks

the metaphor she used was sexual
like peace could be some sticky secretion
staining my sheets
like i could coax it out
with two fingers and a promise

the light swooned around her
and clung to her
like she'd pulled down the sulky luminescence
of an almost rainy day
for her gown

blessed are you
whose blood spills out on the ground

the angels were so high above
as to be irrelevant
holding up the molding of the sky
grey winged as clouds

but their falling feathers burned
still hot to touch when they fell
ashy, on my shoulders

Friday, June 1, 2012


there is nothing to say about the people and places left behind
only to wince and look away
only that with every break
my heart grows closer to dust

north country

and i am something of a north country girl
tannin stained from southern sun
bled and bound by others than you
heading north again on this skyline
with someone other than you
who smells of musk and flowers

my divided heart is keening already
for the over saturating southern sun
warm beer on warm nights
the relentless lap of cursed waves
confederate jasmine and palmetto bugs

mourning the places i left i lose my tears to the virginia wind,
and grieving for the arms that held me
to the soft patchouli fabric of another lover's shirt