Hope

After the devil walked out,
I set the house on fire.
A cleansing.
I went North to see the See-er.
She agreed with me.
We talked about herbs and tea
and the guns of history.

My dad stepped in as if he was
there all along. I tried not to,
but the Tulips were in full bloom.
The honey bees called me
by a given name.
I am on separation from myself,

and as ghosts came and went,
I left my silhouette behind.
I joined a rainy city for a brick
talk, but we spoke nothing.

The See-er followed me with a snap.
I jumped back to her possibility.
She meant to cut it at the stem
but I got more than usual,
and the Tulips changed color, over and over.
And during the middle of all Of this,
I found what she grew.
Hope.

Your Darkness

Are you just out of mind? Or have
you lost bed, too?
I’ll lay you down with straw and
help catch your rogue.

The passage to sleep
is in a cottage, as bare
as birthed privates, down a
cottaged street. The seeker has treats
in that darkness! The darkness
where we meet.

You collected loneliness
in places that I jog in. I
watched you paint,
I watched you slice your flesh
with window,
I watched you crawl under his
sheets at night, to
ward off  the darkness.

Still it comes, a happy thief,
painted like a victim,
no matter your age, it never will
outgrow you.
Though, your flowers bloom and
your pumpkins grow,
though you scrub light into
your palms,
it never will outgrow you.

I taught you a language, a long time ago, a
protection from the shadows,
before sun marked your
pale skin,
before your lips touched a sugar breast,
you were my garden,
you were my flower;
a light, all of your own, to light your darkness.