Garnish and Grace

Dividing yourself up
into equal portions
to meet the requirements
and measurements of the day
the needs and wants of others
taking their turn, taking their toll
dolled out and weighed
served on a platter
with garnish and grace.
Remember, She says, to leave for yourself
the important parts,
the parts you need -
Your liver and heart
to carry on, keep the course,
run the race and finish the day.

She Built

She built the wall around her -
thick and strong,
brick by brick to block
her view -
to keep the wanting
at bay -
to hold back the
pressing desire of babies
and home, husband
and hearth -
to protect her fragile
world from the reality
she couldn't have.

She Was So Tired

She was so tired of being talked at.
Words, once her comfort, now thrown at
her from all directions.
Spinning her about until she's so tired
and dizzy she falls in a heap and
still the words come at her
and she's glad to be buried alive.

She Learned

She learned to keep it inside
Because it was easier to keep your mouth shut
and swallow it down then to have your words
twisted back and used against you
Sharp as blades to cut and kill.
The burn in your heart and lungs and stomach
was easier to deal with then to see your
emotions, thoughts, feelings misconstrued
and dismissed.
Easier to turn your back and walk away
then stay and try again.

She Wanted

She wanted to write happy poems,
The stories of her life
of sunshine, wind and bird song.
She wanted to remember what it felt like
to feel the ocean dry to salt on her arms.
To walk barefoot on golden green grass
in the dog days of summer.
To be able to let things go,
calm her mind, focus on the moment-
Remember illusions of summer calm,
throwbacks to childhoods wild abandon
Long setting suns, slow walks home and late
night games of kick the can.
Memories of sunburns that leave freckles
on your shoulders and nose.
The feel of creek, river and lake
The thrill of catching tadpoles
to keep in left over pickle jars.
She wanted to write the words
that held the warmth of summer memories
to sustain her through the lonely winters
of his absence.

Good Puppy

Like a good puppy She
had learned to beg

Hesitating before reaching
her cold, wet nose out
against his hand

Wanting to be held,
Wanting to be petted,
Wanting to be kissed

But expecting, waiting for
the kick, the hit, the
slap that ineveitbly came-

The lesson he said he
was there to teach her.

He Can Hear the Panic

He can hear the panic
in her voice when she
cries for him to come to her.
She reaches for him-
begging for him to keep
the wolves at bay.
She says she can feel
them creeping in at the
edges of her mind, the
light reflecting of their
fangs.
Wild, feral, ferocious, it
takes all her courage not to give in-

He comes, he helps, he holds
her tight against his neck
until the pack moves on
and once again she sleeps calmly.

Settled

Settled was one thing
Settling quite another.
One implied finality
Security and stability
The other, an action
an intermediary state
of shifting from one
to another.
Temporary, shaky,
and fragile.
Much better she
supposed to fly-

An Addictive Nature

An addictive nature,
when focused towards
the acquiring of the
affection of one man
in particular, can
consume ones faculties so
completely, excluding
even sanity and reason
it can cause the
patient at hand to fixate
on the (dear, sweet, loved)
object until the
patients heart, mind
and soul requires
psychiatric help. Or
more healing yet,
the total and complete
acquisition of all
she dreams of.

He Said

He said it was because he
liked to hear the silence.
To feel it move through him,
calming, quieting, finally when he gave in
enveloping him in its fullness.

His brown eyes carried with them
the final rays of the setting desert sun
Two embers hidden deep within the ashes
Revealing the wisdom of his ages,
old as the formations around him.

He'd come out with the owls
and coyotes, picking up his sneakers
instead of his cross.
He said the pounding of the desert floor
hurt less then nails.
Each bead of sweat a sweet relief

His companions, the tortoise, the snake
and hare whispered their secrets to his soul.
The sent of wind, of dust and sage
attached to him and he wore them proud
like a talisman around his neck.

He'd run long, healing runs in the dark
and the cool and the quiet
Beneath the moon and the stars.
Finding himself, losing himself-
His thoughts free to fill the desert sky.

He found comfort in the loneliness and freedom in the movement.