Why

When I write, I write to exist.
I write to tell, doesn’t matter who,
A band, a brigade, a spirit or a voice,
I write during a time so that at another time
I can remember that old time
And I write so that I can conquer time
And I write so that I can keep going,
And so that I may survive…

When I write I write
So I may take that drink of water
Standing water at the bottom of the well,
I write so that I may eat,
And enjoy food, I write
So that every day is not an exercise,
It is a wonder;
I write so I do not have to
Write ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘I love you’ or ‘Don’t Leave’
I continue to write so I may always have a sense
Of self, a center that is only me
And I continue to write so that I may have strength...
And,
Although I will have to come out of hiding
And answer to the rulers of my life, love, trust, courage, confidence,
Today I may wait just a little
By putting some words down upon a page…

7/1/08

Summer, The Fourth, Life, Goodbyes

I eat summer fun for breakfast because
At lunch I’ll be indoors, typing out a memo to the boss,
about that thou we lost
Investing in the ice capades.
The popsicles and the ice cream
Left over from that childhood dream
Are in the freezer. We’re saving them for the
Fourth, after the barbeque and the sweet summer water-melon
That leaves
A wet taste on your lips glinting back at the stars and
The firecrackers as you lay on your back, a
Night-blanket and night-light
In your clutch as you had as a child, and
though imagination lifts and tries
Its best to hold,
the lead of your ever-soft body wields
To the solid dark earth, thick and vast.

You are its slave, and one day you will melt into it the exact opposite
Way you left it, many fourths from today. Stop, don’t stay. Leave it
As you would leave me, on a cool night after a hot summer day, to get a drink
Of water, with every intention of returning. Just pretend you’ll be back;
Breathe normally,
Talk normally, drink normally, I’ll never suspect. And,
If you touch my fingertips one more time with yours and form a jumbled
Word with your lips, I’ll let you go.

6/30/08

The Protective Powers of Kohl

Which is the when is the where is the why?
I’ll spend most of my life indoors, and if I’m lucky,
I’ll have windows in my office.

Turn around and walk out the door slowly, you’ll need to
Take that one last look. If it was that cigarette you took,
You owe me one- bring it back.

I wish I had fur and leather and kohl to protect me
From any future harm, a smog of perfume and dirty
Smoke to make me less vulnerable, tall boots whose studs
Would protect me from heartbreak with the message they’d
Convey, a feline atrocity, a distinctive animosity that will steer
Bringers of harm away with one silent look, and a breath they
Took, that spits blood into the chilling air.

If there was enough black eyeliner in the world to prevent my
True eyes from seeing, I’d buy it all and stock up for those pallid
Wintry months. I’d wrap myself in elevated ideas, mink and astrakhan,
Let no mention of sentimental pain touch me, I, veiled, in that apartment high up,
far from
The city streets of commotion and chance for car accidents, pedestrian run-overs
And spontaneous acts of violence,
And drink the world’s supply of scotch. In my boudoir we’d discuss
The difference between jealousy, love and lust, and pushkin’s proud paramours,
the gray lines of tatiana’s trust.

Strangers flood me and wander through my displays, they cause ruin and wreckage,
They ask questions about things I can’t explain.

I, singular, me.
Being alone is like building immunity- you do it slowly, surely, safe from pitfalls
You can’t afford.

6/30/08