Saturday, February 14, 2015

black veil blues #2

the dark watches of the night
my neighbours party hard
shuffle thump thump bang
nearly a scream

my scream echoes empty
empty words on empty rooms
you walked the floor once,
in my mind
walked rooms visible only to the heart's eye
leaving footprints like my soul
was wet cement
dark watches on a dark night

st valentine
patron saint of unmarked passings
yet i saw you pass
dark shade fleeing through a dark night
i marked you
saw you, reached
scorched my fingers on your shadow
til the pads were black with ash
pressed the prints to the wall
like it meant something

all i can say now is,
i am hear
stained fingers
smudged walls
i marked your passing
engraved you on my skin

the one i loved
he came this way,
and went again

Sunday, February 8, 2015

we are gypsies

we are gypsies
gone in the night
stole your heart and your sweater
left before the first light

folding laundry
making neat stacks
clean clothes
humming to the radio
playing housewife
she knows, looking out
snow, ice, parking lot
through a veil of condensation
she won't look out again
not out this window
not on this world

she folds
folds her childrens clothing
folds her hands together
folds her cards
she's out
and it's so easy

that girl
dark haired
raven skinned
gold and dust
folded as neatly as a shirt
she takes up less space in the heart

that boy
and sweet
memories, tucked up like socks
trunk at the foot of the bed

if you fold the right way
you can pack your life
all up in cracker boxes
fill the bed of a pickup
don't even need uhaul
just go

nostalgia bites
wind blows snow
temperatures below zero
yet another day

we are gypsies,
she says it to herself
no one hears

our life moves, she says
like the night moves
pack up the pictures
off the wall, off the fridge
there will be other walls
other fridges

she'll fall in love again
under the light of a different sky
shots called by foreign stars

Saturday, February 7, 2015

black veil blues #1

and her?
she was born a widow
pushed out into this world
bawling and broken

she was alone before you knew her
before she knew you
knew you body
blood beating
pulsing praying pushing
and cold
ash on her fingers
ash in the wind

before that, she was alone.
children played at house
cops and robbers
bonnie and clyde
she practised lonliness
until it was an art

after you knew her
she drew the curtains shut
let no light in
held the memory of it in her hands
smelled myrrh
let it run between her fingers
nails lacquered to a high black shine
stored it in enamel boxes
wept on fridays

she was born a widow.
the gift you gave her?
realisation of her self
blossoming whole
dead browning bloom