floating and leaving no trace
wispy clouds reach
tentacles from some airborne kraken
floating in an inverted sea
will it wrap you in its scaly embrace
will it be warm
i too long to abduct you
like some mythological beast
but i offer
only human arms
broken hands
quiet whispers
——
sew on smiles with
threads of disenchantment
pulling up the corners tight
pin the grin on the donkey
in place
with sickly yellow pushpins
of dread
show your best have a great day
thank you for coming face
fingers trembling over the
cash register buttons
and behind your eyes
the sound of dentist drills
and chalkboard screeches
remember your time in the forest
with hawks big enough to
carry you off
you get to fly
if only for a moment
was it a fair trade
the baby lived
and went to
linger with a sister
a velvet ghost of a child
blushing with secret fevers
salty lips, never a smile
no magic kisses to awaken to
bleeding night stars and smoke
——
for
The Elusive Trope
Specks and Fragments
Magnetic Poetry Saturday Challenge
the hospital room
smelled of urine
and chemicals
disinfectants
just conscious enough to grip
the tubing in his nose
that drained fluid from his gut
he rolled his eyes
staring without seeing
yanking the tube out
inch by inch
until the nurses
restrained him
finally strapping his arms
to the rails
your cold hands
send chills down my neck
after our autumn walk
Yes, that’s right. We have another reading added to the October Open Mic page. Pleasant Street offers us a wonderful poem. Make sure to check out the Open Mic page and check out her site, Are You Thrilled. I am!
the sun barely up
not even enough to
flood the room with light
not with all those clouds
i pull the covers
over my head
i can hear her in the kitchen
and i feel guilty
about staying here
the sheet is stretchy
manufactured to keep you
cool in the summer
warm in the winter
but i lay here
and breathe my own hot breath
replacing oxygen
with co2
i’ve buried one of us alive
i hear the cup
clink against the counter
how easy to alter shape
a little augmentation here
a little amputation there
slick fingers
smoothing rough hills
filling crevices
made uniform
yet
passing
through the fire
it shrinks
it cracks
it weeps
the moisture boils out
like a microwaved potato
if you’re lucky
it’s not trash
you may be left with
a vessel
that can be filled
the pencil sharpened
easily turned, leaves its mark
a gray smudge on white
from that empty space
the one between the skin
of the peach and the pit
the one between your
stacked ribs
the one between your sternum
and your heart
the one that widens daily
between your drooping
whiskering ears
an ache swells in that space
never emerging
never sharp
never burning
never fully formed
but heavy
so heavy your bones groan
and your head droops
on a too thin neck
–so dramatic
just swallow it
like the rest of us
see, it tastes of salt
like taffy
like the ocean
like tears
Words and Feathers 