plum & violet
they both end the night
back arched, head angled to stretched
hands, craving our love
after the fireworks
are spent
in the middle of summer
it always feels like
it is over
and the weight t
of winter can
be already felt
all across the chest
Vesuvius
Was sure nice
When they gave us that
Snapshot of
of 79 CE
The tables, the mosaic
amphoras full of garum
Like vintage poster ads
of a wine mixer
Wine and garum
Tuna intestine mixed with moray eel
Flying penis windchimes
We rounded the day of keys
painted walls, bronze figurines
of Mercury, Jupiter, Athena
A gorgeous statue of Aphrodite
carved of the finest marble
A centerpiece for an indoor waterfall
Which supplied water to the house
Escher had seen such a thing,
Plaster casts of people
Their, arms, feet
Positions
with a 12 Mile bikeride along the Little Miami
some homeade german dive bar food
A Fever sausage,
a goat cheese + spinach beet
asparagi, reuben,
Yellow squash, green beans,
mephitis mephitis
A leisurely Cemetery arboretum romp
Old knotty Catalpas
Sunset in dear old Covington
Sitting in a restaurant by the window
I see us, in another life
Dining together. A game of hangman
Between us.
Zach Bryan’s new album on the stereo
Good friends on a patio
Cheap drinks and games that make us laugh
A round of pool
And strangers all around
The great American bar scene
Feels like home,
Wraps me in a cozy blanket
And whispers sweet nothings
for my dear friend danielle
locks of tangerine summershine gleam
parted like a lively street
a row of power lines in between trees
sun splashed countryside
a rose colored daydream
you are a cherry-flavored drink
sickly sweet
wild as the daffodils that
line the streets
freckled like little strawberry seeds
i wish you knew
velvet roses in midsummer bloom for you
and tulips come springtime do, too
Through held hands around the
ring of smiles and laughs,
down to our feet as we circle left,
then right, swing, do-si-do, and promenade.
As we switch partners and
tap our feet between moves,
find ourselves skipping to the beat
as we circle, a hop in our promenade,
a sashay here, a rip and snort there,
we move faster,
exchange glances and grins, then
come together for a holler and holler again,
come forward with clapping and
shout our thanks to the band.
Taking stock of the blood vessels in my eyes,
I blink twice for every second of sleep lost
conceiving tomorrow’s fixation.
This is a calculated undoing.
Now comes the part where I do it again
I didn’t see her
the way she was,
young and thriving,
instead of constantly dying.
Migraines
Seizures
Kidney Failure
Blood Clots…
pain driving her
to abuse drugs
and drive her away
from who she was.
Headstrong to defeated,
words of understanding
turned to arguments, heated,
and playing games and laughing
on the living room floor
turn to sore beatings
and abusive scorn.
The years passed,
and she got worse,
fighting with her husband,
her own son,
constant fighting with those
she loved.
I was the only one
she didn’t fight with
because I walked on eggshells
did as she asked
too afraid to argue
even if I didn’t trust the task.
After she died, I felt guilty,
because while I was depressed,
my heart a mess,
relief washed onto the shore
of this tragedy.
The days of walking on eggshells
had ended…
I was free from the abuse
of her misery
yet she was my mother
how could I think this of she
who gave birth to me?
