Vibrations

Vibrations

 

The tuning fork

is a rudimentary tool.

I could say the science

has something to do

with frequency of sound waves

that create a phenomenon

the human ear interprets

as pitch.

 

But all I really know

is when we hit a thing

so hard it trembles

and hums,

I’d better listen,

and adjust my instrument

accordingly.

 

Secrets, Free and Wild

Secrets, Free and Wild
It’s true that some won’t love you.
But I will.
You, crouched in the dark.
You, with mirror eyes.
Waiting. Watching. Wanting to be safe.
The coast might never be clear.
Yet here I am. Here we are.
Let’s brush the dust from your hair.
Let’s put on something sparkly.
Drop that haunted expression.
My dear, let’s do the haunting.
And the dancing, and we’ll make
our own safety. Not in dim
corners, but in each other’s
arms, shielded from the sting
of shame and other bullets.
It’s true that some don’t love you.
But I do.
And I choose to live, with you.
We two, a pair of secrets,
free and wild.

Woman Seeking Storm

 

A Personal Ad: WSS

Woman seeking storm

To crackle

To shake

To blast

And to break

The smug sky apart

 

Woman seeking lightning

To flash and burn

Her retinas until she

Sees with her eyes closed

 

Seeking thunder

To crash and pour

Its drumbeat rumble into

Her ears so nothing else fits

 

Seeking rain

To soak and saturate

The skin from the outside in

To soften the heart

And make it fertile ground

As once it was.

We Monsters

 

We Monsters

 

No one kisses the witch.

For the witch cares nothing

about the innocent, the sacred.

She’ll steal a baby like it

was a loaf of bread. She takes

a plate of warm, beating heart

with her afternoon tea.

 

No one loves a villain. No.

A villain tosses poisoned apples

and hairpins like playthings. Curses spill

from her lips like songs,

and, anyway, she’ll be gone

by the end.

 

No one holds us monsters,

we who kill with a glance, or a swipe

of the claw. We travel by night,

cloaked in solitude. We hide

our unnatural faces,

even from ourselves.

 

We witches, we villains, we dragons,

we thieves. We monsters.

We wait for you to arrive,

armed with righteousness and pickaxes.

We know, we deserve this,

to meet our end as you

dispense correct justice.

We burn. We drown.

Our heads roll, like overripe fruit, at your

feet.

 

Yet some of us will live.

We’ll slink back into our cold caves,

sharpen our knives by the dying light of embers.

We’ll get what we need.

If it means someone has to bleed,

so be it.

 

I’ll Take You

 

I’ll Take You

I know your particularities. Coffee, light
and sweet. Flowers, ranunculus please. (Never roses.)
Cold beer and hot shower will cheer you up
most days. And you could live forever
on spicy chips, Twizzlers, and avocado
with salt and spooned
right from its black leathery skin.

To say you have quirks is too generous.
The fact is, you’re often infuriating.
You drive too fast. You say you love,
then completely neglect,
your houseplants. You leave crusty dishes in
the sink. Stay up too late, don’t say
what you mean, but then talk too much.
You’re stubborn and contrary and
you’re always changing your mind and
I often want to shake you.

I used to strive (without success) to love you
exactly as you are. But now,
I think, there’s not a thing
about you that’s exact at all.
The trick is in the turning.
The seeing you again, and new.

Because when I say you,
I mean me.
And you’re the only me I’ve got,
so I’ll take you.

Old Enough

 

 

Old Enough

I’m old.

Michael Keaton as Batman old.

“We Didn’t Start the Fire” old.

Crush on Susanna Hoffs old.

 

I’m grey hair old.

Insomnia old.

I’m laugh lines old.

I’m cool with these laugh lines (most days) old.

 

I’m know what I like old.

I’m going after what I want old.

I’m trust my old heart old.

 

I’m old enough to be impatient.

Old enough to be new.

Old enough to know there’s no time

to waste.

 

I’m short skirt old.

I’m I don’t care if you like it old.

I’m old enough to have my own back.

Old enough to have yours, too.

 

I’m old enough to be reckless,

in all the right ways.

I’m old enough to worry whether this is all enough.

Old enough to know, most days,

that I am.

Fuzzy At Best

 

Fuzzy At Best

When the ball strikes the line

does that mean in?

Or out? How many cards

can I trade with the dealer?

And how many lives? I can’t

remember. We both know,

my grasp on the rules is fuzzy at best.

But if you open that

rulebook –

weighty as a bible, stuffed

with onion skin pages –

one more time, I swear

I’ll flee to the bar,

and gleefully forget everything else.

If we’re going to play a game,

I’d rather make it up

as we go.

Love Letter to Humans, Even Me

This semester I’ve made it a goal to contribute to a weekly poetry forum at my school, Vermont College of Fine Arts. It’s good for me to produce something each week that I send out into the world, even if it is a very safe and supportive version of the world. Here’s a poem I’m pleased with that I wrote earlier this semester.

Love Letter to Humans, Even Me

One never knows.

One hears of accidents on bridges.

Earthquakes toppling buildings.

Which is to say nothing

of the tremors that topple us from within.

Some of us stooped

and some of us broken

and yet we go outside.

To work to visit to breathe fresh air.

It is so beautiful

and so brave.

I love us all for this.

Another Poem for a Flower

 

Another Poem for a Flower

Anemone, adorned

in purple ruffles like

a Queen.

Just yesterday, your spine was bent.

Stooped and sad.

 

I feared the worst.

You’d been neglected, left

to dry. So though

I thought it futile, slipped

your stem into a glass of water.

 

This morning, you

reach delicately muscled arms,

you show the world your splendor.

A drink, and time, have brought you back

to life.

Things to Do with a Feeling

 

Things to Do with a Feeling

squint at it

hide from it

cry over it

share it with your best friends

share it with your therapist

share it with the one person who needs to hear it most

write a story about it

tie it to a stone and drop it in the ocean

wrap it around your shoulders like a blanket

spread it around like fairy dust

develop a crush on it

send it away

stay up until it comes home

hold it under your tongue until it melts

press it between prayerful hands

whisper to it in the dark

rock it in your arms

wait

watch

see how it grows