Sometimes before the alarm,
sometimes after,
I turn and see the blue,
a wedge between wall and tree,
and know the world
will be alright.
No matter
its red dawns of anguish,
its weary gray suffocating skies,
its long orange and heavy sighs,
it will be
blue
again,
and blue is Creator’s kiss
and pledge of cool breath
that follows morning’s glimpse.
Road Trip
My friend, David, called me.
He asked me to go to Atlanta.
Of course, he
has seats at Atlanta
Braves.
He told me to pack for
the night. Braves
are his favorite team.
I love baseball: Braves,
Cubs. Yankees, it may seem
that I am fickle, but baseball
has heroes
and I have met some
of the great ones,
Pee Wee, Mantle,
Rose and Minnie
would cook me
chicken strips at Sluggers
and give me bottles of
his favorite beer,
non-alcohol,
I was never to tell
on him for his,
keeping up
appearances.
He was awarded
inclusion to the
Hall of Fame,
for his accomplish–
ments.
Christ secured to a cross
for somebody’s sins
Odin strung from a gnarled tree
nine days seeking rune knowledge
Osiris bound in a chest & Nile drowned
dismembered, gathered, resurrected
Mithras, dying & reborn from a rock
Tammuz of vegetation
Dionysis drunk & dead
Morrigan, Cernunnos, Cerridwen
So many dead gods.
So many rebirths.
Obviously, mortals need
better killing strategies.
I don’t want to ask for help
I can do it my damn self.
A well traveled path
cut deep in the dirt
by years of my wagon wheels.
I’m not sure that it’s pride
I think it’s more of a self preservation instinct.
Most people leave
they aren’t available for help for too long anyway.
To recognize I need help
have to admit that I can’t do it alone
and that arrives with failure, and with shame.
Two partners, on the case.
Arriving with shiny black shoes
wide-brim hats
looking for the sign that bears my name.
I don’t want to ask for help.
I can do it my damn self.
Trial and error is part of any process;
learning any skill.
Not every process is meant to be completed alone
I’ve been picking up “team lift” boxes
before I was fully grown.
I can mess it up and push through anyway.
I can take twice as long to do it
than with an extra set of hands.
I can drop my motorcycle on my thigh
cut it deep
and have to ask for help anyway.
That’s the way it goes sometimes.
Asking for help clicks in
like a familiar sad song on the jukebox
when I’ve exhausted my options
faced with no paths forward, solid smooth rock
and two broken axles.
Sometimes I can’t stand up on only my two feet.
I can’t pick up the burdens
reverse-grip dead lift until my back screams.
I need to ask for help.
I can’t do it alone, I can’t only rely on myself.
As a child, I did not know how my grandfather died.
I grip knowledge in part and prophesy in part —
life appears in pieces, a massive Venn diagram.
Birth in Massachusetts inscribed my first circle.
Swan boats in Public Garden,
ancestry an anchor preventing my longed-for drift,
Priscilla Mullins’ house still stands.
Then New York City, Puerto Rico, Buffalo, Gulfport in the mid ‘60s sketched interlocking circles – indivisible.
What did I learn and where?
Knowledge exceeds books, chalk-decked blackboards or classrooms though their circles appear on my page. I learned the hard way,
a victim of an unconventional brain.
The genetic circle sketched inside the circle of my birth evaded sight, until I woke with a friend’s husband, his face against mine, the spasms of his body a violation.
The switch in my genes flipped to “on.”
Everything changed. Everything.
My grandfather died by his own bullet.
I am not a robot just because I understand how em dashes and Oxford commas work—the woods are not lovely, dark, and deep; “the woods are lovely, dark and deep” and poets with promises to keep know when they are and aren’t connecting and do not welcome implied editing by assuming a punctuation is or isn’t there and do not enjoy the suggestion that whether they are ems, ens, ‘phens, asterisms, or interrobangs that they were generated as statistical probable outputs of prompts and not the eclectic, elegant, and nuanced clever creations of characters that they are. I will ampersand with ample ands & there is simply no way I will allow the AI-whisperers to tell me it didn’t happen just because they couldn’t read it—just because they couldn’t believe it—just because they didn’t receive it.
all my wanting chokes me like bile
in the throat, acidic, thin black
fluid that tastes like something
just out of reach
he tells me he cannot wait
to meet the person I will become
in only a few month’s time.
she will be different
but I want to be wanted now
as I am; broken and shining
like shattered glass mirrorballs
against an empty dancefloor
because I have no dreams anymore
but to be held and recreated
in the image of someone
who loves me
He is arson
I am ocean
We ride the same apartment elevator
He flames commie libs and pushy dames
The floors dawdle past like window-shopping slugs
My waves thirst to tsunami his rant
I flood my mind with oms instead
For days I go out of my way to avoid him
But fate savors its practical jokes
The next time I douse his spark before he ignites
Happy Donut Day, I gush sweetly
He gawks as if I have boogied naked through a church
What kind of donut do you like? I ask the silence
Don’t eat them, he spits
But I can see the glazed circles smoldering in his eyes
The next time I am ready
Happy National Forklift Safety Day
His eyes fume at the floor unsure if I am joking
Hard shuffles one foot over some unseen smudge
Happy National Bourbon Day
He drags a rough hand across his mouth
I imagine him getting home from work
Uncapping a thirsty bottle
The calendar now an alibi
Yahoo has proclaimed every sun circle a celebration
And I, pushy dame that I am, push
Happy National Corn on the Cob Day
Happy National Stick Out Your Tongue Day
Happy National Take Your Pants for a Walk Day
He guffaws at that one
Catches himself and translates it into a rough cough
Still wary, he says, Good one
We have forged a precarious foot path
Laden with shardy missiles, blazing coals, potholes the size of Ganymede
But for now, for a short span of floors
We share this world, this elevator, this primordial wink
How can I put this politely?
