Til Death do Us part
Ten thousand car alarms sound
the drop of the judge’s pen on
the dissolution of marriage.
All you have to do now is—
believe it.
Ten thousand car alarms sound
the drop of the judge’s pen on
the dissolution of marriage.
All you have to do now is—
believe it.
I hear a muffled alarm clock
see your hand slap wildly in the dark
unable to find the snooze button
laughing talking insisting
everything is fine
handing out headaches
like party favors
shooting pop philosophy
at anything that moves
…. Out of the breast
Out of the blood
Familiar as an insult
Draped in shadow
Startling as otherwise movement
Pushing at the boundary land
Then at the boundary
Then at the road, the post box,
Fence and yard
The porch, the door
I am the messenger
Filling the air with buzz
Difference and disorder….
Being honest, I hated that nickname,
feared how degrading it would be
if the man at the end of the break table
knew how it was passed around,
but I’d also be lying if I said
he didn’t earn it to some degree.
It would be wholly unfair of me
to list grievances where he can’t defend;
just know that I have never known a man
whose behavior was so off-putting
in every single way
that everyone around could shut him out.
The women at the table
didn’t even want to look in his direction
so he ate his food staring blankly ahead.
And every so often, when we did try to talk,
he met questions and comments
with silence, staring blankly ahead.
It was hard for me in a different way.
He sat with us because he knew me.
We had met several times before
at church events, no less,
where I recognized some quirks but otherwise thought
he was a decent and intelligent man.
Now I can’t presume what was happening
within that head of his,
whether some disorder disrupted him
or he just never learned self-perception,
but there was hardly ever an effort made
to make himself more likeable.
We were all relieved at his moving on,
the burden at the end of the table lifted.
Maybe we were happier than we had a right to be
but it’s hard to say.
We had all tried at first.
All human beings just have their limits.
As for me, I can only hope
that his new future is better suited for him.
At the same time, I pray I did enough
to share God’s love with this man.
It’s just, what can you do when that man
won’t try sharing God’s love with himself?
How rare, our times of deep intimacy
Fleeting needs keeping us apart
Let’s stretch that moment
of a friendly smile to someone
and let it be heart felt
Or a hug and a I love you
So that there’s an afterglow
of pure tenderness
We try the old ways
Wild geranium
To stop the bleeding
Devil’s clothesline
For the burns and sores
But our apron strings fall
Loose our shoes will not stay
Tied the beds rise up
We wind up on the floor
The clothes hung on the line
Torn off till all we can do
Is spread ourselves out on the grass
And wait.
My depression is making a comeback.
It’s been small and steady
like the molasses
I would pour on hot biscuits
If I could wake up and make them.
I can tell it when I’m saying I love you
and I linger just a little to savor it before it’s gone.
I’m feeling it in the way my hair only sticks to my head
and it no longer has the energy to curl
or come alive.
I think it’s getting bad again
when I look at my skin and only see a canvas to display my wrongdoings
I think it’s getting bad again
when I want the hunger to stay
so I at least feel something
I think it’s getting bad again when sleep just sounds like an answer
to a question my body never asks anymore
I think it’s getting bad when I’m
feeding off my sadness
because what else am I suppose to write about?
on the pulse of this new day
on the brink, on the brim, on the cusp
by the dawn’s early light
This is America
Flint
Dilley
silver blankets
red hats
red capes
body cams
lockdown drills
Fracking Rock
Blighted Tree
Coal ash River
twilight’s last gleaming
#Resist
