I Am Not The Same Size

To speak up on Sunday
when religion strikes like
the back of a hand

would be a sin. To question
a written truth bound
by message and baggaged with
fear

would be unthinkable.
But I do! But I do!

I let those words of hymn drain
slow down my throat,
digesting each He and Him,

and I am not the same size
as my companions in these walls.
I am unworthy.

I am faithless in my tongue
because I cannot taste it.
But I do! But I do!

I am full of confession, I swallow them
like bone slivers after the fasting.

My prayer is splintered by
knees on the floor.
My Dear God, humble me more!

Termite

I see that one arm is stubbed
by something. No one else can see
this, like it isn’t true.
To them, I am tragedy,
and I let them.

I am a hot potato
and they drool over food.
My crippled hands shove their
mouths full of muscle.
They like it raw
and tough.
So, I give them my back bone
to gnaw on,
they snap it like baby pea stock.

I spend two years in the ground,
done with legs
and feet
and toes
and balance.
I buried myself in dirt,
living with termites.

The thing about termites that no one else can see,
is that they aren’t true. To them, we are tragedy,
and we let them.

About God

He may kill me
in plain love, He has
done more already.
His words are iron,
a heavy chain crushing
my fight.

I left a sleepy hill
for His voice.
My feet ached with disapproval,
but I went, as a soldier,
and shall we fight?

I hold armour in my lungs,
but my hands are wasteful,
braided together in conversation
with God. I would be proud
if I had it now. I would offer
everything, but question.

Here, He comes!
Don’t be late. I think
we settle on a couch, sinking
into resentment, I feel His chain.
I am not, but is He
free??

Oh

Oh, dear Satan, your delicious
merchandise finds me
tender.

I am a raw sunflower gasping for
clean air, for rare light
to open my thin arms
and feed my beginning.

I could be a generous gift,
a miracle fragrance in the breeze
of a season,
but I was stomped deep
in the Earth, fed on by worms
before I knew how to dream.

When dreams slipped in to my feeble
stem, they were
manipulated, filling my roots with
poison.
Now, I sleep with deadly seeds
growing in my brain, too weak to survive
cold seasons,
surrendering to dark demons, until
spring brings back
the warm light of 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.

A Back Load

Sleep with little weeping,
dream bitter sweetly,
drink your coffee with dignity and
don’t forget your pride.

Side with the blind sided,
tie down the unbridled,
drain out lying eye lids and
leave the world at fault.

So,your brain has been assaulted,
your body’s been crawled on,
it’s a massive load your hauling,
but you don’t know where you’re

going. To drop it or
to drag it,
burn it
or gag it.

I say,
season it with
changing seasons and
grow bigger than it.

 

Emily, The Tightrope Walker

Emily
walks with rotting feet

turned out
old
birthing hips
rock
with her jellyfish
spine

her path has become
as thin as her
starved bones

a
tight
borderline
between survival and
extinction

Emily
with her nervous order
steps
slight
whispering steps
onto
an aimless rope
an unambitious line

unstable
intimidated
weak
battered
uneasy
shrinking
Emily

walks

Where Did You Go, Now That I Need You?

It’s in here somewhere, I know!
I’m rummaging through the garbage, finding
pieces of old boyfriends, childhood
blankets and
old books I meant to read.

I search through the corners
and deep down into
plastic tubs that I use to store
the junk that I think I need to hold on to.

It must be in here! I know I held onto it
for a day like today, for a time when the quiet
becomes overwhelming and when I begin to question
myself.

There was a moment when you looked at me
and smiled like you used to, I smiled back and thought
to myself that I must come back and find it!

I taped it up with the lies you told and the
way you looked right past me, with the tight lipped
silent answers and the sound of your footsteps walking away, with the
image of the door slamming in my face
and the portraits falling down around me.
I boxed it up with the things you promised
and the “would never happens”.

I once let it flow like a tidal wave preparing to destroy you,
but the water never could reach
the high places that you set yourself. So, in the midst of trying to
destroy you, I only drowned myself.

I counted down like they told me
and put the pain away. I did not dare disturb the anger
for the damage it had done to me.

And now that I need to find it and utilize it’s strength, it
seems to have disappeared, decayed among the heap
of garbage still piled around.

I fear that it has left me, abandoned me at my time of need.
I cannot rely on anger now, I must rely on strength.