Painting
Colors on paper,
All run into each other,
Making a rainbow.
It’s Friday night
and this room reminds me of another girl
I used to be.
Twenty years ago, I was dangerous.
Tonight, I am only hungry for a melody just out of reach.
Warmed by smoke and beer,
I sneak through the crowd to the front row,
swaying to rhythm of Beam and Coke as it sloshes in rowdy glasses.
I always did have a knack for finding
the bass player with the Pagan face
who would break my heart before the sun rose the next morning.
When the music ended, we found ourselves in a dark corner,
mingling riff and sweat and sinew.
Perhaps I am still a little dangerous,
And there is no sympathy for this devil tonight
as I silence the voice murmuring disapproval in discordant tones.
In the morning, there will be time enough
for a bitter communion.
Tonight, I will sing,
as deviant fingers stroke
the underbelly of my conscience.
Sin City Lori
Slick Artist
Secret Side Piece
Sure Looking Good
Sweeter Than Honey
Buckeye Rose
Mizzen the Point
Buckeye Princess (scratched)
First Gentleman
From Behind
Double Jabbed
Miracle Nation (winner)
calluses out of dereflection
Guilt is the thing with barbed thorns.
I long for the day when I’m past it.
When I can unhook its grip from
my hot flesh and there’s enough
blood left in me to love once again.
I carry it on me like culture or
secrets. The weight of it something
akin to skin. On my proudest mornings
I thank it. Bowing to the lessons
of my past like a temple in prayer.
Some noons I’m certain I’m beyond it,
flush with the warmth of new truths
ringing plain in my ears. But, at night,
I know it will always come clawing
from that place of same pure surrender
I once trusted to you.
There is one thing I have never had,
Something I am dying to try.
I see them spinning, glistening.
I inhale their sweet fragrance.
One thing I have never had.
One thing I am dying to try.
Spinning, glistening
and oh that smell!
But fear holds me back.
Good sense holds me back.
Spinning, spinning, spinning.
Glistening, glistening.
Spinning, spinning, spinning.
Oh, that smell!
There is one thing I will never have.
One thing I will never try.
You hear that Elon
Wants to fight Mark Zuckerberg?
I hope they both lose,
Nostrils leaking grey matter.
Two billionaires – TKO.
We won’t be making love tonight.
Against the backdrop of Whitney Houston,
the young & the old twirl & twirl & catch
each other in their arms; too-long hugs & yelled greetings
signal the night’s future for these unknown couples—-
who among us are in love?
Children tucked into bed & the music finally turned down low,
the loving will commence: scattered clothes & lips
to skin, heat & hair, moans between silence
I used to count upon the person beside me
to love me in that way, to pull me in,
stare into my eyes, finally whisper I love you
after deciding to leave;
but that was never love, that love-making.
For months, I watched others forge new partners
with whom their sex was more than casual so that every time
I touch another’s lips with my own,
I see nothing but the bodies of their truer lovers
pressed against theirs: a reminder that I am a vessel for others to find love,
a carapace to fill a hunger until someone perfect
welcomes them into their arms & they make love…
Driving, I pass a long row,
then a field of luscious wildflowers
in yellow & violet & blue & red & orange
against the backdrop of light green grass:
I hope that there are bees there, pollinating
& mating & loving the Earth, & I hear them whisper
no, you won’t be making love, tonight
You introduced me to ease
with the utmost patience
With hands that used to punch walls
just to make harder knuckles
Yet here I am, buttered to the gills
Saying yes each time I’m asked
