White

In the mornings,
I could hear the neighbor kids get on the bus.
My sisters played in their room
not old enough for school or old enough for me
to want to play-
I didn’t like them cause they couldn’t read my books with me.
When I felt well enough
to get out of bed and do something
I climbed up to the top shelf of the closet
where I hid my treasure chest
and fingered feathers,
wishing I could fly away.
Going outside was always a breathy nightmare.
Most of the time it was the bed
white walls, white sheets, and a tutor.
Seeing sunrise and sunset
by their tracks along the wall.
I drew pictures of the school bus
and tore them into tiny shreds.

Loneliness

A cold cup of cocoa
next to a guttered out candle.
A big double bed ,
with the pillow print of only one head
one coat in the closet ,
one spoon in the sink ,
ghosts and memories shattered on the floor
and dust settling back

after the slamming of the door.

Chesapeake

There is a point as you come off the bridge
and are just out of Thimble Shoals tunnel
where the curve of the road faces you due west.
514 pm in the afternoon of a January day
you face into the sun, sinking into the bay.
the water is gold and red and dark,
the sun bisected by the waterline and wave
and a thin strip of coastal cloud.
You know you are but 15 miles from home and bed
but looking west you get the sense
of what Columbus really did sailing out of sight of land
and the fear of falling off the end of the world.
the first star is out over to the east, above the tourists beach
but your home and hearth are calling
and night comes, and the wind is rising.

Threat

What imp is this perversity
that I, laughing,
do exactly what you wish me not?
I should not treat your threat
as a caress, as welcomed.
I should not rejoice
at your hand around my throat.
there are limits to patience
as in all things.
one day I will go there
never believing it was really a threat.

Dare Devils

I remember hearing Mother yell

“ they’re going to kill themselves”

as we counted down to “ LET GO”

and we did,

because we were fearless

and we would live forever.

We rolled, like rocks, downhill

Whipping whiteness

The world in spin

And the eerie silent roar

Of the wind

Mixed with laughter and shrieks

As we ended up in a gasping pile

At the bottom of the hill.

Beneath A Cloud of Obscuring Thoughts

If I dont believe it,
then it never happened.

I was never covered in a sticky sodden shirt
I never had a bloody mask of gore
splashed drying across my face.

I dont remember a thing.

But it speaks from the wind through
the trees and light edged clouds race
across a crescent ship upon
this dark and bloody sea

of a dream that never happened.

M song

I am a child of tide pools
and strong wind
spume, froth
storm wrack at high
tide mark
My eyes are the sea
my skin salt
I walk on driftwood bone

I am a broken boat
on a deserted beach.

Precious Things

Christmas trees.
I remember trees,
caught in the minds eye
and the minds heart,
all the goofy ornaments I made as a small child.
And I remember my groans w
when mother would insist
on hanging them every year-
Even after I grew up
and bought her silver and glass.
Precious things.

Unexplainable

In silence, your own thoughts come back to you
doubled, resounding as echoes.
One thought
dropped as a stone in still water
sends ripples in all directions.
I never see the future,
but the ripples reach back into the now.
There are no words, really.

Vampire

Will you sneak into my window one night
as I lay sleeping,
my hair spread loosely,
head pillowed in the crook of my arm.
body hunched in fetal position…..
just to brush back one strand of hair,
sighing kiss
drinking in my dreaming exhalations.
Taking your envy with you
when you slip away …