Time Travel

Boiling over, I am scraped off the bottom,
the block I belong on,
57th street where the crows sing.
Time travels around the city
-back and forth-
like it doesn’t matter
swooping through me each time.

I swing like a pendulum inside
my brain talks so fast
future and past, but all I see is the street
with a man parked under
his life.
I can’t tell if he’s dead or alive.

He might be another.
From somewhere I haven’t met
with guns and
drugs
and sex crawling up the walls
I’d kill him to tell it all

but he can’t.
His mouth stopped with his heart
a long time ago.
Time comes back again
and I am standing in the kitchen

wine pouring from the window sill,
put a pie out to dry
sugar, there’s no room for you and I
still want to be here.
The clock is purring like a new motor
ticking backward

and I’m watching my mother.
In X-ray, I can see right through her.
I see her fear and her
weak little shoulders – I am a caged, feral animal
ready for the world
My muscles grow stronger and stronger
I spit on the caged bars and twist them from
existence

now I’m standing in the corner
face to face with death in all its honour
a coffin, a casket full of
skeletons of the past
that merge my cells together
maybe we never were two
time splits here into thick poles

North and South I spend my dreams
in Antarctica
reaching for the coldest depth
I can find
freezing myself in time
where nothing happens,
nothing changes,

I’ve let life tick its last time by.

Frozen Pond

I have no room of my own. My carpet
was eaten by a vacuum with cold, blue
eyes.

It was January when kitchen plates
shattered. My diamond party,
shattered.
My calm-moon baby,
shattered.

I took her down stairs,
three times to
the snow.  We walked.

To an icy snow pond. Cold
like those eyes we left
three flights up, alone, with a balcony
and needles filled with snow.

We did not skip.
We did not hold hands.
We held breath and
walked into the pond.

I only had two hearts
because she had
one
of her own. Deep pink.
Beating on her own.

Deep.
Deeper.
Through sharp water cold.
Piercing cartilage, straight
through bone.

We gazed through crystal, an open
body,
singing laws of the nameless,
her,
freezing within me.

It is May now, plates have been cleared.
Cuts have scarred
deeper than bone. We are froze in that pond, but I have only one heart now.

I am alone.

White Winter

In my dreams
she comes, frostbitten;
blue asphyxiation.

Her lips like dried leaves,
brown,
crisp.
Her eyes streaked with trauma
and
under siege.

She commands me, summoning
my tremors with
her poisoned whistle.
I try to inhale,

but my lungs are missing!
I drop.
To my knees, in panic!  They
have escaped!

I cannot find oxygen to grant voice
to tongue. She wrings me out!
Her eyes clamped tight
to my throat, twisting
her frozen corpse
to my
bone.

She has spread; I am cold,
White winter.
Alone.

Wild Madness

as wild snow lay speechless
covering
his Mango Mini plot

a sleepless widow installed herself
nearby,
in her fresh candied madness,
purring away
with soft blue shivers

from deep in his part
of the Earth,
he sang up to her
and the woods sang
and the owls sang
and the black wolves sang

her moonstruck feet floated slowly upon
a snow belly ground
garnished with sympathy
dancing
with her entombed love

as wild snow fell, time grew
more cold

the beautiful relict
purring away in blue madness
while her sweet
charcoal mane lay in
wait
for The Eternal Voice

to call them both into frozen
lunacy
for always

The Boy By The Pond

I found him by a pond,  he was  fishing for
gold. I had  no interest in
his endeavor, just his pretty smile.
He told me later that he
did pluck his treasure
that day,  hidden deep within the water.

 When I asked him what  it was, he only
smiled and laughed,  then took my
hand, kissed  my cheek
and took me for a walk.
We traveled up and up for what seemed  like
forever.  Climbing jagged rocks
through a blizzard,  the wind screaming at  me
to ascend no further.

 The sharp boulders sliced open  my knees,
threatening my balance,  my insides
started to freeze…I stopped in my spot, slid my
hand out of his.
I warned him that he was climbing to high;
he must stop! But he trudged on; claiming that
he could reach the top
and told me just to watch him!

 I knew what was coming, it was too much to
bear, so I turned my cold back on him
as he kept climbing, I began my descent
without him.
Two  days later, they found him dead.
Swollen like  a twisted ankle, as purple as a bruise.

 It’s been some time now, since I climbed
down that mountain
but my insides are still un-thawing.