Posts for June 2, 2024 (page 2)

Romeo declares the bitter end

Clear blue all around
yet I can’t see a thing.
You’re gone and I’m flailing,
grasping for purchase
on water that just 
slips through my fingers
and I can’t tell if you were swept away
or if you swam,
but it doesn’t matter because
every time I come up for air I’m still

drowning.

The palm tree
   outside my hotel room
  patio leans to the left.
  Some hurricane tried to push
       it down, but it didn’t fall.
                  Instead,
                             it
                               grew
                                  sideways.
                                     No, it does not
                                            stand tall, but
                                                       nonetheless
                                                               it does stand
                                                                              unbroken.

Standing in the garden, feet planted
hip-width apart, bent at the waist over
an abundance of ripe raspberries, snacking
directly from the branches, smacking
the sweet—I remember my vow to skip
buying flowers for my pots
this year. In protest. If my beloved sister
is going to be given this diagnosis,
is going to be in pain, I’m not bringing beauty
into the universe. This cruel universe conspires
against us. Still, I drove to the nursery to look.
Picked out pink caladiums with green-edged
leaves, stained-glass coleus, regal red and fuschia,
purslane, with its spongy leaves and jewel-colored
petals—and nasturtiums, already trailing
from their too-small containers, tender buds ready
to burst tangerines and peaches. At the register,
I add bee bright red penta for the butterflies
and the hummingbirds. Just for today, I say
out loud. I load the car with new plants and flowers.  

locked and loaded…
government occupied
wombs

We’re on the same team.
She kills me anyway, laughs
so hard she can’t breathe.

I can’t find any words
Today is just not my day
Maybe tomorrow

You ask me where things went wrong

and i could list a million little moments:

How you talked about your ex,

your sister.

How the women in your life

somehow…

inexplicably…

didn’t know what was good for them.

So obviously, your lectures were helpful.

I wonder if I am that woman now,

an ex

(you talk to new women about),

who just didn’t know a good thing

when she had it.

In early August of
some time last July,
my friend sat with her
smoothie of spinach and rye.

And on that sweltering day,
a short man did appear:
he said, “Hullo, my name is Jack,
would you like a change of career?”

And my friend said “Of course!”
(as she was hot and quire bored),
and the man led her to a stop sign
on which they soared.

As they flew through the air,
iron pole between thighs,
he looked at the horizon and said
“my house is past that rise!”

My friend was eager to see
their destination so distant,
that when they landed, 
she hopped off that instant.

Jack led her into a cave
(and no longer was she bored)
and past the mouth and stalagmites
she saw a great hoard.

“What is this?” she said,
taken aback,
but when she turned,
disappeared had Jack!

And in his place
was a mighty lizard:
a dragon of red
created by a wizard.

Mournfully, the dragon asked:
“Please don’t be mad and don’t kill me neither,
it’s not my fault I’m a were-dragon,
you wouldn’t want to be either!”

And my friend wasn’t mad,
and they’re friends to this day,
because when faced with the choice,
she chose not to slay.