Waiting, 1998

You’re standing in the doorway

and

I can hear you breathing.

I keep my back to you

knowing what’s coming.

The end of your cigarette glows

as you inhale

exhale

you toss it to the floor

and I hear the shuffling of feet.

I feel your breath on my neck

steamy hot

branding a kiss onto my skin.

I wanted this,

I know.

I ached for so long

and finally

your touch.

I created my hell-

I see your picture daily

as I close my eyes to sleep.

And now once is all it has taken-

you don’t have to ask anymore.

I hear the flick of the lighter

as you turn back toward the door.

I retie the apron on my waist

and wait for tomorrow.

California

Never speaking those words

of me

to me

but,

I knew they were there

around the edges of his brain and on the tip of

his tongue

dancing around like a firefly

in a glass jar.

I sit at the lakeside

legs dangling over the edge of the dock

tossing stones

skipping

rippling waves.

As each hits the water

a thousand stars multiply

in a thousand points of light

flashing

and just as quickly,

going back out again.

But this remains

constant

and still

Love.

This

I linger

and for a minute

I can’t focus my eyes.

They dart about the tiniest of rooms.

There are pictures and landscapes

and clocks hanging on the walls

telling me what time it is.

A globe of the world is in the far corner

I walk over and spin it.

It’s 3am.

I check the door and it’s locked

pressure builds in my ears

a sinking ship.

There’s a change in me:

pigtails and freckles still cover

but the leather I lay upon creaks

like I’m old.

Or maybe

I’m new with a red ribbon tied around me

waiting for you to unwrap.

The wind is blowing outside

how is it that you do not hear?

From this tiny room and these four walls

maps and frames

it howls and breaks.

Bearing upon us messages

as we perch like birds.

I begin to focus and the scene shocks me:

the lump of fear

screams into my view.

It is black

red

and loud

I panic.

You panic

and we blur for another day.

Dealer's Hand

What do you want from me?

Nothing.

Then everything...

and nothing again.

In that streetlight

the steam of your car windows

the feel of your tongue

and skin

sticky with sweat.

I am completed for the first time.

Then, your fingers

d

o

w

n

my spine.

A lightening strike

igniting fire

flames that won’t

..can’t

extinguish.

There is no end to our beginning

we thought-

then

fire again.

A longing, a desire unfelt

then

feeling.

Either way, I die a little.

All of the lines are fiction.

The Dance

Open the blinds and watch me:

I’m running in all directions

but mostly to the west where the sun sets over the snow-capped Rocky peaks.

I am dancing

and

I am the air.

I want to be all that you breathe

and not just the gasps and sighs each time you break.

Broken this is

and unnameable to us.

Are you watching me now?

I know I’m not alone in my dance.

We leap through the debris

our jumble of a wreck.

Others soar across

unscathed

separate and steel.

You live in me

and I am fire.

Watch me dance.

Little Peace

I love him.

That’s all I can say.

It’s as if I don’t even care anymore

this fire is burning

like a pack of matches

only never

could they be blown out.

It’s as if he had been waiting there

all this time

for me to find him

in some quiet desperation

trapped

in corners of indecision.