Wednesday, February 28, 2007


Wrinkled and flexed
smooth and new
did you know
her body was broken for you?

Recorded in your
whorling tufted down
the first moment of existence
imbedded at your crown

Wet swirls with wet
salt with sweet
perfectly blended
two lives meet

Left Behind

I just want someone to touch me
to reach beyond
and worship at the soft pink temple

I want us to step out
exploding the confines
of these four walls

To be able to trade one imperceptible touch
the slight shift
intimate and familiar
comfortable as a ritual gesture and
crossing over space and boundaries
you obliterated long ago
letting everyone know

But only at your choosing
it seems
I am laid bare

And you gaze at the cathedral masterpiece
like an overwrought tourist
who has traipsed through one too many
sacred archways

The Longest Night of the Year

Now you're gone
and I'm left to dam up
what you have brought to life
Silent desires and whispered prayers
half fulfilled

Every thought
every movement of my body
makes the ashes rise
silky and grey
clouding the air
misting my eyes
darkening my mind

Each fine particle
clinging to my damp skin
invading my nostrils
I cannot see beyond this black haze

You so willingly accept any blame
I wish to shift
But I am unwilling to absolve myself
I search for meaning
and purpose in this pain

what does this lapse say
about me?
What do I say to HIM?
What excuses do I have?

I pray
time will give me words
cloaked with grace
so I'll not be forced to forgo
his long awaited embrace

What She Said

Contrite and quiet she sat
robed entirely in black
no shades of grey
her sombre confessions
soliciting assistance

But her words were mine
down to the last syllable
her sins, my own
in bright lights
staring shamefacedly back

And now the beam
exposed, awkward and cumbersome
must be extricated
from the eye of my soul

All their stories
are strangely constructed
to fly in my face
splashing with cold precision
waking me
as I teeter on the edge

So I listen to what she whispered
"I will not be his Wednesday Night Slut"
And what of me?

Shall I forfeit
this midweek oasis of peril?
my desert is tired
of your mirage

I want to drown
to come up prune-y
and saturated
with you soaked
into every pore

I want to be wet
with your love

Sunday, February 25, 2007

The Fear

Is it ever safe
to let go
give it all away
(if I have anything left)

Now, I want to
yearn to
stop holding back
and receive you
in return

Am I ready?
Do you want me?
will you cherish

Then the fear
like the bile in the back
of my throat
up from the gut
and it hovers
no pill can banish it
no one else
would know
they can't see it
on my face
or in my demeanor
or general deportment

"She looks happy"
but she's been risking
on a narrow margin
she fears bankruptcy

I can only pray
you are my
interest bearing account
principal protected
producing dividends
to nourish us

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

DD (It is safe to assume, I could never be confused with a small breasted woman)

Grade Five
I think it was
surreptitiously pulling
and rearranging the straps
of this foreign
contraption I seemed
to be required to wear
?wanted to wear?

They appeared fully grown

I don't remember
the buds
Tanner II
even though I remember
my brother teasing
and boasting
he had "more than me"
the ultimate insult
to a girl in training

Some days
like all my other baggage
I get tired of
carrying them around
am willing to go
under the knife
to lighten the load

They're distracting
they weight us down
we're weary of the
unsolicited attention
if they don't sag yet
they will
and what's the big deal

I vividly remember
how my affection for him
the husband who was not mine
grew tenfold
that moment

My friend
mother of four
breastfeeding her first
lamenting her sagging
useful breasts and
he graciously
offered to hold them up

With that one statement
saying so much she
needed to hear
so much I needed to hear

There are those
there is one
who will respond to my lament
"they're not young and firm"
with "WHO CARES!"

and I'm free
to throw off
the straps and containment
for he loves me


The flash of thought
false anticipation of the
impending pain and abandonment
burst in
from nowhere

You say
he's coming to tell you it's over

I don't even know
how to fight
don't know the origins of this warrior
the assailant
the perpetrator
the traitor

I don't want
for you to desist in your lies
to go away or

Because you'll surface
breaking through my calm

So I command you
reveal yourself in all your
cancerous ugliness
I want you defeated
never again able to
haunt me
infect me

I will not play host
to your parasitic
sapping my confidence
in his declared love
for me
sucking away all
the goodness

This is why we write

I like this act
of putting words
on paper

Making my experience
my perception
my perspective

this is how I can shout
and say
"Look at me,
I need to be acknowledged"

irritating everyone
and driving them