THAT CLOUD LIFE
We all watched a rabbit
hump the moon
then dissipate
as one does
It was, honestly, a little too cold
when you first told me to stay longer—
when it felt like we couldn’t stop
standing in the dark parking lot
before kissing; although,
I am thankful, now,
that it was just starting to warm up
when you pushed me away
You said you loved me
as you pulled off my sweater
& the candles burned,
as frost glazed the windshields
before you barely caught your flight home,
& when you had no other option
but to hold me for warmth
You never got to make love
to me when we were already sweaty
(I’m sure your sex is better now,
anyway), & you didn’t get
to watch me bloom
as the plants bloom outside—
somehow, I regret the little I did show
you (though, truly, answer me—
what did I show you?)
You said you loved me in the cold,
but you left me with vomit
running down my neck—fucked
another man while I cried,
huddled like an infant
in my dark room—running
a blade over my finger
I praise God that it was only the cold
that you tainted; heat lingers
in the sky, but I only know you
in terms of the damp & cold
Wasteland hometown. Desolate
In the gouge between “back then”
And “now”. There is no future here.
I am cleaning my childhood bedroom.
I am thumbing through the stack
Of old birthday and holiday cards
I’ve saved so long just to salivate
Over sweet words from now strangers.
I find rocks in my drawers; a collection
Of every stone I threw that hit no birds
Every stone that hit your windowpane
The suicidal summer nights I begged
You to return and take my place.
I find every gift ever given to me
That I’ve kept for so long, by now
I don’t remember who gave me them
And for what reason. But I still search
Knowing my childhood fingerprints are here
Somewhere in the seashells and erasers
And I want them back. The tiny hand dipped
In pink wall paint pressed onto the inside
Of my closet. It’s funny how I was the skeleton
In the closet for so long. But now all that’s there
Are my outgrown clothes, translucent orange
Pharmaceutical bottles, and my mother’s handprint
Above my own. Neither familiar, but stained
By a memory of us fighting for ten entire years.
I went red-faced in my room and my mother
Threatened to send me to a psych hospital.
It’s funny how I almost wished she had.
It’s funny how it’s kind-of too late now.
Nothing is worse than packing and unpacking
A childhood bedroom, my younger self
A spector watching from behind my eyes.
Back then I dreamt of the future and now
I only have what’s left in front of me.
My future is an amputated arm;
All that remains is the phantom limb
And the ghost of its severing
And the pain it took to let go.
I’ve looked into dying eyes
too often.
I’ve heard the sounds of dying
far too often.
They show me nothing.
There is nothing signified.
The touch of clutching hands,
the feel of cradled head:
These carry no weight,
press no coin of knowledge
with value to the palm
of one whose dying is later.
Do you halt for delight
at a fabulous sight?
What sparks will inspire
and light up your fire?
Break you away
from the cares of today?
A scent, a caress
that takes your breath?
A whisper of trees
flowers swaying in breeze?
A taste that’s divine
a delicate wine?
A color that soothes
a breathtaking view?
When worries are leaden
trouble you’re dreading
let sudden pleasure
bring moments to treasure
relieve when uptight
help your soul to relight.
-Sue Neufarth Howard
When your daughters deserted you,
you took me under your wing and called me your own.
How many trails have we run?
How many fish have we caught?
How many laughs have we shared?
How many heart-to-hearts have we had?
You lovingly removed my protective walls,
brick by brick with gentle care;
They crumbled faster than the walls of Jericho,
and then your daughters returned.
I saw the pale horse off in the distance,
On Lynnville Lake
the water deceives.
Feathers are not feathers
but the calling card
of the Cottonwoods
along the bank.
And here is revealed
a tree’s mirrored deception,
its reflection only
an illusion of depth.
God doesn’t deserve to own the stars
The stars lead the way through the unknown
The stars get me home, home to you
The stars are your eyes in the moment before we kiss
The stars are a reminder I can begin again
They are souls floating in the sky,
Protectors of the night
They are sugar in a salty world
They are a painting that never ages
Wishes to be granted,
And twinkling signs I’m still alive
The stars cannot be owned,
For they are a greater power than we’ll ever know
