Posts for June 10, 2019 (page 4)

Should have never let you know where I live
because I know your culture of resiliency,
how you never stop searching for prodigal sheep.

You roll around in your white shirts and ties
dropping by from time to time to gauge my spirit,
maybe today’s the day I’m inspired to come home.

Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?
the question you so love to ask.
I have, but I’m not convinced He ever accepted me.

Thing is, I know you aren’t bad people.
Good intentions guide your hearts
and there’s nothing wrong with sharing truth as you know it

but my brief time dwelling with your fold
was marred by similarly motivated individuals who never stopped
to check on me in my culture shock.

Pushed to conversion, full immersion, marriage too early
while family and friend disowned and deserted me,
you never asked me how I was holding together.

I wasn’t, weak to your good things gone rotten,
predictable endings fell into place, division, divorce,
another family lost and my life and emotions in pieces.

This story is why I could never go back.
Years later the wounds are still healing
and I’m not confident I’ve found them all.

Then you come around saying Jesus, your Jesus, can heal them.
I’ll listen because I know it’s your spiritual duty, but know this.

Spiritual duty is no substitute for a human connection.

i was first called gay
in third grade.
it was a sneer——
a word packed
with derogatory meaning
it was meant to grind me down
and it did
i spent nights
lying in my bed
crying
lying to my dad
about why
knowing that this
was why they called
me that
and yet
i didn’t really
know what it meant

i was called a twink
in tenth grade.
yet again
in the most
harmful way possible
at a time
when sex
felt so
unfamilar
and hostile
to me

i covered myself
in a new label
everyday:
straight——
asexual——
bi——
gay——
and nothing
kept me warm
and it felt
as if
everyone
was trying
to force
one upon me
or rush me
to find one
that fit
and nothing does

and i blame
these words
for why i still
don’t understand myself
why every label
tastes bitter
i know who i like
i know what i’m comfortable doing
and yet
i somehow feel
repulsed
by everything
and i blame
those words
those people
because deep down
they fucked me up
and there’s a part
of me
that never wants
to feel love
so i never have to
come to terms
with who i am

and i hope that those people feel pride,
because i sure as hell don’t.

Shine bright. Don’t go away until

the sun comes up. For I’ll miss you while you’re
gone. So come back 
when the sun 
goes down.

is an orange cat
padding window to open window,
following the chatter of birds
he would pin beneath his
unsheathed claws if he could,
but he can’t.

With a nod to Kris Gillis, whose idea I stole, mature poet that I am (in age, if not stature!)

We must match!
Her one deeply held belief,
a lifelong aethetic.
She painted pictures
with her clothes, shoes, jewelry, purses.
Makeup used for dramatic accents, and hats
if the occasions warranted them,
which they almost always did.

She curated her china, linens,
candles, flowers, even flatware, 
creating a concerto of colors
for a fancy party or family dinner.
It didn’t matter. 
A beautifully set table, she said,
shows that you care.

It was only after I buried her
that I realized
it was all a mask
to try and hide her pain.

if exactly half 
of all your words
are missing
you may be heard
but not understood

when 
you
hear
fear

the morning
the car
the drive

the maze
the time
the cash

the clock
the driveway
the silence

approximately half 
my thoughts
are dismissed
i can confirm:
you are mistaken 

The queen of knives puts silver linings back in every stormsoaked cloud,
Sharp as razor wire.
I’ve never been more thankful for the ritual,
On the edge of plentiful harvest and fertile crescent moon.
Something prismatic awakes,
Free from names,
Joyous where sunpierced sands gather in great dunes.
Raven chasing years coalescing in the flowerbed,
Blooming darling devils with bleeding tongues and hearts,
I stand enamored with fresh starts,
Shaky delicate hands burdened with purpose,
A castle in the sky,
An obelisk beneath,
A thousand ringing bells in a cathedral built asleep.

Still, right there, in the bathroom,

I stoop down low with a paper towel
a select-a-size, diamond texture and rose design
wasteful, but built for –well, not this, exactly–
waste
A roach, upturned on the tiled floor, dead
just
one
the shrouded figure, not a plague and not a sign
wriggled.

so as not to touch,
I smashed it –first thing handy–
with a Pyrex measuring cup,
a sodden wet mash.
and threw it in the trash

what i’m saying is it wasn’t the way I wanted to start my day
a barefooted death squad in a funeral march

in lieu of flowers –should have been composted, I note– yesterday’s banana peels
a slip

hours later I will still feel the vibration of
*snap*crackle*crunch*
and I won’t understand –yet– (yet, because I am hopeful)
why like
–a twisted ankle
–a gritted-teeth “shut up”
–a broken mason jar, blue, from the woman that named you

me

why

but

I don’t get to tell you that I saved a bee yesterday
and talked sweetly to a spider
and whisper, to the mirror
“I am not also this.”

line the walls with production values out of Eighties softcore porn, soundtracks competing with arcade noises from another room. The guy at the bar has his hand on her arm and his hopes between her thighs. He leans in, says something cheek-to-cheek. She giggles coquettishly as he stands, gets his bearings, heads for the back of the room. By the time he’s down the hall toward the john she’s putting on her jacket and making for the front door. Watching this, I hope he’ll have the sense to shrug it off when he returns to find the flaw in his evening’s plans.

There is a wasp in my room and we both can’t exist as it brings me terror of pain that persists.  
Do I fear the thought from the past that is keeping me paralyzed here all alone?  
Is this an echo of heartbreak and loss that I don’t condone?  

The stone is worn from years of travel while stashed in my pocket to remind me of then.  
It was sharper when it joined my journey to remind me of sin.  
It dug into my leg and wore out my pants it has traveled with me as penance of past.  

Now no more than a marble I’ll lay you to rest I threw the burdensome rock at my red winged tormentor’s nest.  
It broke out my window and my fear flew away but was it the just the rock or my wasp that left me that day.