The whole language of writing
after Jackie Plimmer Bayer
my obsession with mining
may not appeal to everyone
to know the value of digging
come with the need to see
few are brave enough to expose
the mother lode in our imperfections
after Jackie Plimmer Bayer
my obsession with mining
may not appeal to everyone
to know the value of digging
come with the need to see
few are brave enough to expose
the mother lode in our imperfections
steady, a deep long breath
that reaches your fingers and toes
and brings every jagged vibration
to a stable hum, and blow it out
just as easily, like sending
a folded letter across a still pond
to my love who waits at the shore
with cool lemonade and pen in hand,
don’t rock the paper boat,
don’t capsize the balance,
just steady with the message
that I am at equilibrium now,
my troubles are done tearing
through the fields, all is steady,
steady as untouched water.
Every evening
for 30 minutes
I sit in a silent
pit feeling pain
I recall women
I have hurt
jobs I have lost
bullies sensing
weakness (school-
yard workplace
he doesn’t care)
& left hard marks
I am to feel fear
of failing family
recoiling as but
a kept man can
I buckle beneath
a handmade load
of tarnished talents
calcified careers
But he stressed
I am under strict
orders not to do
a thing about it
This is my Rx
a single dose
of unfiltered
tastless time
Soon I will sit
in his office
peeling apart
its side effects
Does the drug
free to poem
(my new unpaid
career he calls it)
or does it fill
a not-so-far-off
grave with dirt
& mental relics
So I am to give
my pain a room
of its own then
leave it alone
if….
Always in a rush
Must admit,
I live for the rush
I bitch about the hurry
I admit,
Addicted to constant fury
Rush of ocean waves
I wonder,
If I will make it to that day
Flushed, my red cheeks
I wonder,
If you can feel my heat
Scattered and all over place
I can’t
Seem to change my pace
Constant cascades of life
I don’t
Dodge, instead stand in downpours of “why’s”
The surge of the almosts, maybes, and so-close…
The constant hasten moments; distraction’s my host
The plunge of needling ink into my skin
I welcome,
The flush of blood pooling in
Fleeting and flitting around
I recognoize,
The chaos of home I bound
My breast cancer diagnosis arrived
on the most romantic day of the calendar.
Valentine’s Day came not with flowers and chocolates,
red hearts, love language, and passionate kisses.
But with “It’s cancer.”
I wrapped my arms around the coarse paper cape
required for surgeon visits. Wonder Woman was
nowhere to be found, no matter how hard I looked.
My heart was silent.
My mind absorbed an an old Latin hymn, scuttling back
from the past.
The doctor’s eyes questioned mine. I suppose he
asked me a question I did not answer.
I was too busy opening a box of colorful
conversation hearts. Messages of
cancer babe, cancer dancer, shake your pom poms,
be cancer free imprinted
on the candy hearts.
Once the fog lifted, ominous clouds pushed upward
and Latin words ceased to replicate inside me,
as if a cure was suddenly found, I heard options and
a timeline.
Surgery was successful. Daily radiation with its
spaceship hovering above me, seemed to work.
Cheerleaders with pink pom poms at every turn.
The shadow of cancer making a splashing comeback
remains, regardless of pink pom poms and rah rah rah.
It sits on my shoulder and echoes
the call of the common loon.
A fear of looking back only
to become a pillar of salt like Lot’s wife.
Cuddled in his round
plush lined circular cushioned
bed comforting him
through the nights on his own as
I snuggle alone in the Queen.
Inspired by John Steinbeck’s personal “Pigasus” stamp and motto
We have forgotten about
Our wings and feathers
We have silenced our songs
Instead, we are content to eat slop
Snort loudly, and wallow in mud
Once the fat, pinky flesh is satisfied
Or is it?
What will it take to rise?
What will it take
For the mire to become the miracle?
Could there be a day
When pigs actually fly?
Ad astra per alas porci!
There are moments I want to live in forever,
to stop time
and let an eternity or two
go by,
like when your lips
are anywhere on my body.
Yesterday morning,
we invited the dog upstairs
for the first time since we got her.
She jumped on the bed,
laid down between us,
and barely moved for two hours,
so content just to be with her people.
Happiness and peace
radiating off of her,
eyes half closed,
as I just kept petting her.
There are days so filled with joy
(like the innocence
and excitement
of a puppy)
that I hope to remember them
forever.
I am so lucky
to love you both.
