Posts for June 3, 2021 (page 11)

“Our LGBTQ community members are just like you and me,” said the mayor of Lexington
to honor Pride month

Just like you and me, she said
Just like, but not the same
Not the norm You and me
You and me, straight, normal, cisgendered

What about us, who are not you and me
What about us, the L, the G, the B, the T, the Q, the +  
Why are we not you and me
I may not be old enough to understand Stonewall
But I am old enough to remember the whisperings of a new disease
Old enough to remember a community devastated
Old enough to have cavorted in the Castro Old enough to have played on Polk Street

But still not you and me
Still other
Still just like but not the same
I am queer
I am here
I am you

the bedroom was lit only by the amber
flame of candles and the shy smile hidden on
your face

you stood facing the antique full-length
mirror
i stood behind you, whispering things
i liked about your body as i undressed you

as each garment fell to the floor, the
tips of my fingers had more skin to explore

the tips of my fingers caressed your face,
lightly as a butterfly’s touch,
tracing the line of your cheekbones,
finding the hollow of your temples as i kissed your neck,
then falling to trace the supple curves of your
lips

i whispered gently into your ear
how perfect you were–in that
moment,
a goddess, a statue of Venus
come to life, to be
with me

the tips of my fingers danced across your
shoulders and down your arms,
as i pulled you closer to me

my hands found your stomach and pulled
you firmly against my body
my fingers then moved upward
as you watched

i began to whisper how
i wanted you, needed
you
all the things i
was going to do
to you
with my hands, mouth,
body, voice

you were, at last, nude–
reflected by candlelight in the mirror,
that same light dancing in your eyes and
mine

i slowly turned you to face me,
savoring every curve as you turned, the 
tips of my fingers drawing your 
face to mine
and we kissed
and you said
take me
to bed

My man he done just like I said.
I’m here to tell the truth whole
As I can make it out to be.

Don’t make it out, Mizris Gold.
You have to tell all the truth whether
It suits your story best or not. See?

See? I can see fine. It was him who
Missed the turn, hit the fence, killed
That man’s chickens. Left me blue.

It was a truck came at us, clear as.
Made my man swerve ‘fore he hit
And tore up jack with Jill throwed in .

The women was nowhere near the
Car or the truck or the chickens a’tall.
She’s pure lying to get me back.

Pray tell, Mrs Gold why did this poor
Woman want revenge so much she could
Dare lie out right in front of the judge?

Not tellin’. It’s mine to know and your’n
To guess and don’t bother me no more.
It’s what I said and that’s plenty enough.

I say when you are through.
Answer or face contempt. Law
Will be served and that’s a fact.

I’ve said my piece. Going home. Kids
To be fed. Let him go. Law or not
Whose going to milk? He’s a sorry
Driver but he milks fine, good full pot.

Judge, this witness is intolerable.
The case is made. She’s excused.
He’s guilty of tearing up the property
Leaving all dead or black or bruised.

Well now, said the Judge. I would hold
She about sums it up, kids hungry,
Plaintiff lying, chores waiting. Court finds
Merit lies with kids, cows and Mizriz Gold.

But Judge. No buts, Order in the court.

We carried you
to the small hole
in the hard ground
of the mountain

It was Winter

Thirty-six years
after pappaw
on the same day
you left us too  

It was Winter

Strong proud woman
of firm judgements
high opinions
and great beauty

It was Winter

Ninety three years
ivory hair
flashing dark eyes
lips that cut, smile

It was Winter

You could be hard
flint like at times
and wove stories
of the back when

It was Winter

It was fitting
we carried you
many women
for you to rest

It was Winter

We can be hard
flint like at times
weaving our tale
of the right now

It was Winter

And now we laugh
at your stubborn
we are quite fond
of cut lips, smiles

and of Winter

Steady on uneven cobbles
summiting the hill-rise
before the lit tunnel
florescent beacon
beckoning trains  

Turned
back down R. Garrett
fresh sprayed street
past the abandoned igrega
beyond Café Delirium
locked against predators—
Slowing against the R. do Crucifixo  

Leaning
against the stained tiles
of a café with no name
timeless sullen mornings
café duplos + scent
pastel de nata
from the ovens

i think of you
in shades of yellow.
seen in the dust
floating
through the slice of sun
cutting through the door
and falling gently 
on the carpet.
hot chocolate
on a hard day–
the bouquet of a
roaring fire–
the scent of snow
on christmas morning.
i hear you in the
tinkling of bells
and the sound of
swords swinging.
an undulating warrior’s cry,
though tears never fall.
you’re the flash of light
from a watch face
catching wild.
i think of you
in shades of gold.

(a Countdown poem)

In 1944 when you were eight,
Carmen Miranda started a war
with her face, of which you told me
you licked, on the inside lid
(before ice cream melted
off the Dixie cup).
Such a sweet place;
Ice Cream Wars,
Jersey.
Pow!

One by one they open     
     the hellebores, the lilacs,     
     bluestars and honey-colored irises  

Day by day she places     
     each small arrangement     
     on the tray where he can see it   

Hoping for light to return  

But you delighted in your sunflower,
bestowed it a name, watched it grow
from seeds until you stood, proud
next to stalk taller than you,
I cheered from the sidelines,
maybe gave a like but always admired
your serpentine hair and drop-dead stare  

I watched years after we actually spoke
casually at the coffee house when I asked
about your tattoos, slashes across forearm
inspired my character to mimic
in sharpie in a scene I read aloud
to a friend the same afternoon
I saw you died

Remember blue. The color of joy.
The sky over Santa Fe. 
The scent of lilacs.
Morning glories climbing up
the side of Grandma’s porch. 

Remember blue. The color of flight.
Blue jay, that raucous, cheerful thief.
Heron with its slow, deadly grace.
Indigo bunting, small, charcoal-
colored, until it catches the sun,
blazes into blessing. 

Remember blue. The color of peace.
Adirondack dawns, coffee on the deck.
Dip your toes into the sky, stir
to ruffle the clouds. Watch
yesterday’s heat rise
to meet morning’s cool,
a whispered prayer.