Poetry

the last daisy of the summer

Rising and falling

my nightgowned darling

these afternoons are in slow motion

crooked fingers and paper thin skin

I love the life you lived

 

My baby bird taking sips of water

pressing into the earth

I picked the last daisy of the summer

standing tall in the ditch

 

There is beauty in the end

my hand in yours

the beauty in this hospital bed

the beauty in these old carpet floors

 

Symptoms of crickets

rattling midnight hearts

we grew from your

sleeping dew drops

 

Pedal steels

the floor feels like you

I lay the flowers down

I will wear you like a crown

I want to make you proud

 

There is beauty in the end

my hand in yours

the beauty in this hospital bed

the beauty in these old carpet floors

 

 

the things we lost in the trash fire

emptiness is heaviness

a concrete sky

stiff bones for no reason

hoping to get high

breathing fumes that hurt your insides

huffing sunshine paint

to purify

 

break the ones you love

screaming “I wont go”

lapping paint thinner, with

moist rough tongues

that ooze through the stiffness

cracking tiles

dripping vodka water

the acid paper burns up my insides

 

burnt soles, melting plastic

“you do not know who I am”

tire fire side, basement  rim-job oxidized

a tense slow-burning pyrolysis

winding black smoke tastes the sky

to choke us both, and you scream

wishing you could hide

thermophile

I wish I could say

that when he left the pieces of him tied strings around me

and I had to cut them one by one

until I could stand on my own

I really wish I could say

that he burned me down

and I had to bloom from the ashes like a finger tattooed Phoenix

but I threw the zippo

into his tall straw body

and I laid the gasoline

because

I am a Thermophile

I think he should be too

because

water is boring

until you are denied it

then a drop feels like drinking straight from the hose

in the middle of a heatwave

love does not have to be comfortable

it can be a forest fire

when you really love something

do not let it go

set it on fire

and let it rebuild itself stronger

seasonal

The sandstone edge beneath my feet is floury dust,

that’s craving only water.

I tighten the weak muscles in my core,

hoping to stay strong and

hoping I lose my footing.

In the summer it was firm.

The sun ran through my blonde hair,

and past the curves in my skin.

My shoulders were soft and I dressed in carnation,

billowing and light.

A hot breeze caught beneath my wing,

and placed my toes centred on the lip.

It’s getting cold now and,

the leaves are turning.

They slice back and forth as they fall off the trees,

the wind urging their ears.

Forcing them into sticky black corners

where they will fade to brown and begin rotting.

The precipitation threatens paralyzation.

Heavy clouds will fire off ice bullets,

forcing the earth to dance.

Mercy

I wont gag

when pus fills my mouth

or when they scream

about it

I won’t do it

and

I won’t drool

at all

no saliva will meet the floor

or saturate the sheets

on my feet

I won’t do it

and

I can get through it

needles hooking skin

sinking in

I won’t do it

I’ll get through this