Posts for June 29, 2021 (page 6)

Praise to the rat-king spiral,

When gray replaces
Blue
Sky through the chapel window,
Reset
Happens over mountains,
Over desert,
Over heart,
Seeking in silence—
Through thoughts that cloud
And jostle in the mind—
What the gray might
Mean.

Loose ends tied.

Tripping over strings hidden in the dark.

Turn on the light, turn into the light,
And the frayed ends knit together into a more beautiful tapestry.

Needle stick finger pricks,
Blood-letting over patterns that can only be seen when held up to the Son.

Shed the tears.
Shed the fears. 
Shake it all out and breathe.

Half-dollar in size,
baby slid-
er turtle—oh my!

This was the day of the lost earring,
my favorites I’ve worn everyday
for a decade, silverbeaten discs
from Oaxaca, which I’ve prized
like breath itself.  Last night
one fell off the table, and no
amount of feeling under the bed
turned up anything but dust.
During the night, re-living
Ellen’s irretrievably lost Mikimoto
ring bouncing on the kitchen
floor, I feared this too, like Ellen
and her ring, would be forever gone.

After my all-night restless plotting how
to replace it, next morning, lugging
the heavy terracotta lamp, then emptying
and scooting the Mexican table, down
on hands and knees, sliding my palm
over layers of lint, there it was,
glowing like a treasure.

I am like the moon
My heart a dark circle
Full of longing for the light
Causing even my face to shine
Into the night which can barely
Contain its stars

cotton flapping in the breeze
a single white handkerchief on a clothesline
a scrap of hope for the long summer

do you think i am my Mother 

wandering through grocery aisles 
arms full of dry goods looking 
for a cart to pour all 
this money into 
before we spoil

do you think if i stood right 
at the edge of the lawn
reached far 
back into brambles 
i could drag myself up and out 

16 and covered in scars 
roll me up in sunlight and say 

you do not have her eyes