there’s an email unsent
sits on my screen
Proofread from here to Sunday
it says i hate you
but i dont
i’ve moved on
but my hurt hasn’t
it sits in my chest and screams
dislocates my ribs
a swolled devil baby
pounds to be heard
i’m happy now
but the hurt you created
feels like rules carved into stone
done by my own hand
on the order of a false idol
My fuckin’ feet hurt.
And I’d like to snarl my lip in contempt
and swear it ain’t bothering me
that bad.
I’d like to promise up and down
there ain’t nothing poetic about pain,
but I’d be lying.
My raw nerves shoot sharp verse
right up my spine.
My fuckin’ feet hurt
but that resilient knot growing,
tangling roots deep in my foundations
wrapping around those itty bitty bones
like kudzu…
it’s beautiful ain’t it?
Metatarsal metaphor.
I couldn’t tell you what it means
but the bulging blue veins
are throbbing bright blue blood
and I trace the tender to touch trickles
’bout to burst through my pale skin
with careless fingers
and convince myself that hurt
was earned.
this is yes
petal paws satiny padding
your lips
beneath at the collar
and i am watching
there goes comportment and composure
i am a piece of paper and all the writing
erased
you rub and nuzzle cat
and moisture there
it is
off goes the cannon
the cannon goes pop
the words stop at my teeth
i eat melody in their stead
i am breakfast, at breakfast
yes
no
you have me
there is nowhere-to-go
but further on up the ridge
this water is obscure luxury
yours, love light to the skin
asking more of me
and drowning is the thing
all i care for
all these hairs are porcupine
fretting your song on the air
as my lips go numb
i am awash with a myriad
named for you
Spring
And in the crevice that came
From the split in the broken heart
A green shoot
It sprang forth with a cry
And bloomed with every inch
Of brightness the sun showered down
The darkness had descended
The last of the growth had died
Hope had kept strong until finally lost
But in the flap of a wren’s wing, the frost receded
Spring fought its silent battle
And conquered the season of night
i finally tore
up her
tableau
quartered
the drawing
and flicked
my bic into
the four corners of the world
that had framed her so long
stuck in a clearing
with foxes closing
in or were they
conspiring to help
with their circling?
that is the question
of terror.
that is the why
of the how
i burned her so
she could take
that step into
the moonlight
knowing she can
never be harmed
for she
has become
fox
woods
circle.
May is made feeble by
the smiling cruelty of a spring cold snap,
its bright days of pallid light now glowing vein blue,
its petals crinkling closed and trembling in the sharpened breeze
like eyelids over feverish sleep,
its deep grasses with the lush chill of night sweats.
Tender life holds itself tightly
as the sickness settles in for another night.
COLLAGE
The artist creates
with disparate images, textures
words, symbols, paint
in abstract expression
of thoughts, ideas, emotions
for all to see.
The image of you
for all to see, collage of
secrets, sorrows,
memories, dreams,
passion, courage,
failures and wins.
Your artful soul
the collage of you.
-Sue Neufarth Howard
I stared at her pale neck with the purple bruise,
bite shaped. I wondered at her boldness,
not caring that all of us could see.
Bleached blond sitting in home room, defiant,
daring anyone to ask how’d she come to get that.
Assigned home room by our last names, a clue.
Could I find her in the yearbook? I can’t remember
her name but want to find her, so she won’t be nobody
any more, not just the girl with the purple bite.
You can’t see me but I can see you
I watch you drink your morning coffee
From my old seat at our dining table
And I perch on the edge of the tub
As you sit quietly on the toilet
Scrolling through Twitter on your phone
The same phone that holds
The last picture you took of me
The one you like to look at
Before you go to sleep
I help you scrub your back
In the shower that is too cold
But I can’t feel the bubbles
As they cascade down your skin
You shiver when I touch you
And hurry out to dry off
I watch you dress in the same clothing
In the same order as you did before
Left to right and top to bottom
Your shoes and belt are last
I listened to your call with our son
Who now lives far away
He really hates his job
but loves his new place
Our daughters will stop by later
To bring you a casserole
That you won’t eat
Because you still aren’t hungry
And because you prefer peanuts
Or Goldfish Crackers
I wave goodbye to you
As you pull out of the drive
To go to work
Or to have a beer
Which you do more often
And earlier in the day
I see my flowers on the porch
Still in the pots you bought for me
They are brown and stiff
Because they are last year’s blooms
You haven’t replaced them
You don’t see them either
I sit on the couch to wait
The house is quiet
I can hear every creak
As it settles into the earth
It is the same sound
My sturdy coffin makes
But there I can’t be with you
So I stay here and watch instead
