Posts for June 5, 2025 (page 3)

The rumors of her mother’s wild affair
were golden! Golden as the fire,
but never so close as here in the city.
Clandestine, her husband bored with her 
babbling neither listens nor speaks.

Surprised by sunlight,
hatched from sleep
one of us remarked with laughter
“as for Evil, it became too much trouble.”

We all look on disorder with relief.
The thin hands of trees blow away,
waving goodby,
until nature was a white, blinding thing.

As for evil, it is the steel trap and the fox.

Long have I toiled at this thankless task –
red as any ink and the air
is silent of cures or praise.

I assure you, the new language will come.
I learned it for love. It is the antidote.

I, if not beautiful, am beauty’s maker.

***

Author’s Note: All lines have been taken from A.E. Stallings book, Archaic Smile

We are reminded that we too shall die—-
time, like snails, moves faster than we expect

2pm on a Thursday, mouths stuffed with red grapes,
white wine in your cup, vanilla ice cream on my lips

How innocent indulgence is, that we’d partake in it,
forgetting that too much pleasure makes pain all the sharper

It seems like when 
I try to write 
about the other parts 
of my  life, 
my brain will let me 
two, three days 
of the whole other entirety of my existence before I fall headlong back into writing about my husband that
died that time.  

I think 
the temptation you might have is 
that the two days of all Maude’s creation is 
some kind of
Vacation from agony but
No time with my love 
is a tragedy 
even just here 
in these words it is good.
It is good.
I am good.

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where there should be eyes
only absent gulleys 
where salt water runs
like milk and honey 

hallowed ground
where chest cavern 
lies bare

there was never 
a burial 
for this grief carried

no lilies arranged
wake, summoned
dirge sung 
or throaty wails

the haint walks
still
amongst the dead
that forgot to stay
alive

A poem

Everybody dies.
You learn how much you miss them.
(Also in the game.)

Who hurt you?
Broke your trust, along with your beauty within
Made you believe that you are merely a body to give
Was it through the eyes of others? I pity them.
Still, your heart seeps beyond the parameters
of misguided love.

for sale, rocking chairs
bought new
need work
wood still good
replaced
been stored in garage

The AC breaks. I am dead weight. Destabilizing.
Take my blood pressure. 79/65. It’s not shocking.

I press my face into cool leather couch cushions.
My skin smells like the lotion that will not sink in.

Cry on the hardwood kitchen floor, the water
boils on the stove above me, waiting, waiting.

I don’t need to move. I don’t need to think. Breathe
the airlessness. Suck out stale drags of oxygen.

It looks like I’ve waded in shit, but it’s just mud
from the poppy field last week I swear. It’ll wash.

Blood draw tomorrow. We’ll see if I pull off the trick.
Pre-game electrolytes, healthy fats, prayers, threats.

Chain chew a pack of Orbit sweet mint. Stress
like there’s a gun to my head. I’d almost rather.

81 degrees Fahrenheit in the pitch dark living room.
I too am familiar with this number. I am happier cold.