break brack crack back
dislocated rotated spindle spine
spinning slow pulling pressure
pushing palms
towards contending vertebrae limits
controlled contortion
connected descent
i’ve gotta sundried, sunburnt puerto rican mutt
she’s gotta a snout that rubs stink in the corners with love
licks ferociously like she would eat you if she was big enough
waddles with pride.
he wears a red shirt that matches her scarf.
it’s not on purpose, they weren’t on purpose.
i read a silly poem at their wedding.
it ended with
“why??”
everyone patted my head and said it was cute.
now, back-seat-sitting,
still nine at heart
i don’t ask questions.
she makes a borrowed joke about his bad driving,
and his chin’s-a-dublin laugh sets in,
starts whistlin a young man’s song.
“thats what i love about you” she says.
i’m just along for the ride.
the cameo.
i can’t decide how to hide.
i wish it wasn’t dark inside
i told my insides to wait a while
until the outside could reconcile
the is and was and is not me
to find her a him that knows how to be
to share the night and know the day
and wonder why we always pray
to look at god and then at me
and question his insanity
ramble, love.
blondie
burning, blue five-year-old tells me:
its not about me.
she wraps her giggling toes round silly fingers and rocks me back
chin tucked in
i’m coming home
i sit with heavy hands
cradle topped candy crying;
a sound you’ve never heard before
its like rain drops when deaf lightening strikes
neon trees falling free
able to hold any host of guests
able to cup you up in knarled bark
wood camp songs
i miss my dad
i miss his crows feet
and how they always walked so slow
i want to wrap up my inside thoughts inside a small brown paper package
and send them to a wrinkled paper bag woman who understands
she speaks a language so few people understand
she can count them on both hands
they are all family.
in theology class we learned about guardian angels
my father gave me silver saint christopher for driving safety
i never believed in angels until i met you
stripped of wings and miracles
you found all my ripped jean blue days
and laced courage into soul
you taught me what happiness sounds like
closing my eyes, i knew it was you
“i’m not worth your time” he says.
but she says it at the same time -
so they don’t hear each other.
“i don’t know how to be just yet” she says.
“i don’t know what you mean.”
she squirms.
“you make me smile?” he says.
she wants to keep him smiling.
that is something certain.
i want to see if he’s real.
i want him to see my real.
and i want to see if he believes it.
