Posts for June 7, 2022 (page 4)

It’s another battle won.
A day to bask under the sun.
A time to stretch out toward the sky.
A time to tell your foes goodbye.

Because tomorrow’s a new day.
Another wretched game to play.
Another march, another hill.
Another demon you must kill.

So stretch beneath the tree and rest.
Prepare again to do your best.
And fill your belly, fill your soul.
And let today’s frustrations go.

The biggest evil is within.
And you know he’ll be back again.
There are so many but so few.
The devil you must fight is you.

Assigned to infantry,
damn trigger finger itching, scratching.
Abruptly: Flashes all around,
white on black,
caught the children among the pews,
their mouths opening wide, wide, wide.  

Absorb the meaning:
The children without any voices,
straining, dragged, found fault with.
Hair, forehead, eyes, thought
might very possibly separate
just because.
Just the time and place,
feet still, lips sealed.    

I got up and left the church,
the Cross,
soldiers.

Tall pines hug the car from both sides.
We are cozy, listening to gypsy jazz,
bebop and blues, both of us drumming
our thighs.  We play a little Best memory, Best
meal (breakfast with feet in the sand, Casa
Cenote), Best view.    The road is smooth,
there are no deer in sight, our phones
have died.   Cyrille Aimee, accompanied
by her Brazilian guitarist, sings of adventures
that await —  There are places I’ve never been,
skies I have never seen, notes I have never sung
— and then, sure enough, we blunder into
White Duck Tacos, its thickly painted aqua
picnic tables spread in the center of Hendersonville.
Here it is —  Tacos we have never eaten!
Mine, grilled duck with mole, smeared with
apple-cranberry salsa and crema, cozy in a pair
of warm soft tortillas.   So what’s next?  you ask.

June and so cliche
I allowed myself to embrace the ordinary
     trust me, I will not again
memories pour like syrup
way too sweet, unsavory
why all the reminders?
     I didn’t ask for them
only to be left alone
awaiting tomorrow
just getting through the day
will it always be this way?
I tell myself no and halfway believe

I remember the day 
I found out my grandfather loved me.
I read his memoir while sitting in the four
bedroom apartment alone.
Out the open window, children played 
red light green light with a grown woman.
She drank from a red solo cup and laughed
with the abandon of someone caring
for children who weren’t her own. 

I was homeschooled and I can’t tell the age
of different children, but some tripped over
their tiny feet
and some ran gracefully. 

My grandfather wrote his memoir for his family
and wrote my name specifically.
He has memories with my cousins
and I have memories with the kids across the street.

The woman- dreads to her waist and confidence through her chest-
screamed RED LIGHT
and turned to me. I was on the second story of an apartment complex hidden
behind a suspiciously placed wooden fence.

DID THEY MOVE?
she asked, and I feel suddenly loved. 

NO
I yelled back, and
she knew me better 
than my grandfather did.

who
gave you
permission
to love
the ugly
parts?  

the extra
weight?
the dimpled
flesh?
the transgressions
of ego?  

who
taught you
to soften
into them,
instead
of looking
away in
disgust?  

to allow?
to embrace?
to love?  

who
taught you
to love? 

can you
put me
in touch?

Tonight I feel you again grab my hands
rub them gingerly up your scruffy
cheeks, kiss them tenderly as you
gaze into my tear filled eyes.
Later I would appreciate 
 your wordless final goodbye
hours before you passed.

Waiting

For

That

One

Sunset

To come

Like

A

Vulture

To

Pick

Off

The last

Dead

Meat

And

Replace

Me

With

Complete

Soul

The audience has grown larger
and harder to ignore of late
Sucking on the promise that everything you do
will come back
with hands open for the next tidbit

Just let me be shallow
won’t you please?
Not all voids go so deep
I’m just like every other girl
and I’ll leave my signature off like our fathers intended

Mi amor, there is no future here
Not for this soft animal, wanting what I want
When that’s what you have, you’d think it gets easier
Instead there’s so much to lose

Still

Some beautiful problems are worth having
We hang them up on our walls and admire them
and let more than one thing at a time be true
You asked me once how it works,
sometimes that’s all you need to do