Thursday, November 7, 2013

My Sons In Repose #11

I wrote this on the night of the verdict from the Trayvon Martin murder trial.  I was in such pain, but my hurt was nothing to match that of my sons'.  What is the answer?  How can I, as a mother of young brown-skinned men, sleep peacefully at night?

Watching my sons in repose
-only asleep, because rest is elusive-
Who can know
that we spoke of
Creole seasoning in breakfast potatoes
(Too much is overkill)
And the significance of symbolism in Steinbeck,
The accompanying perils of prosperity
The origin of Kaiju (they schooled me)
Homophobia and of
Divergent thinking
Artistic ability and

Who would know of
The late night excursion
To feed a cat
Taking extra time to pet it
Because it looked like he hadn't been held
In a while

Caramel to Cocoa
But that only speaks of the skin
Who would know
Of the depths
Do my sons somehow have less value?
Deficient DNA?
The scream wells up in me
Without release
(I dare not raise my voice,
Don't want to create a scene....
God forbid my sons come to my aid
And give someone cause for alarm)

Who would know
I weep as I watch
My sons in repose


Oh, love me, do
Didn't I ask it of you?
Not as you wish with
Flowery gestures
Utterances of fidelity
Mad scrubbing as if soil removal
removes maladies too
Curses hurled at God
About the unfairness
Of. It. All.
And casseroles

Love me with your
Fingers curled round mine
Sitting in companionable silence
Or swimming through some tune
Arresting the present
Not contesting my freedom
To fight...
Or not
Because I've already won
This game

#9 the Trip

Not worried, but wanting
Not beaten, but bruised
Not pining, but panting
Unloved, overused.

No dining, just dancing
Enthralled and bemused
Don't ponder, just passion!
Notes playing, now lyrics
Crescendo ensues

Down, Down
Ever downward the spiral
Destination approaching
Not sated, but spent
Tickets stamped
Checking baggage
Leaving nothing behind
Extra care disembarking
It's been a perilous climb.


I’m closing my legs
To the touch sublime
Hanging a sign
Closed for business
Drawing the drapes
Pulling the shades
A fast of another sort.

Lips shut against
Liquid relief
Imbibed without thought
Only to escape
Every pain of the everyday
Sipped slowly
Now fast

No balm awaits
To ease the ache
What lies in the wake
While lying awake.

Bid the unwanted visitor
Feast and behold
The beholden
To the fast.

Friday, November 1, 2013

Royal Mile

It never before occurred to me how difficult it is for some people to have dinner out by themselves.  I try to check in with my ego from time to time to make sure I'm okay with it myself....and I am usually just fine:

It's okay alone.
Time with my thoughts to reflect to create
I did a check to be sure
Not missing love or words or debate

Bailey's on my right side
Angry Orchard on th'other
Sip sip chug gal
See I'm that one gal
Can handle the good stuff
Unlike any other

Smile in my heart
To match the smirk on my face
No honey, you heard right
Table for one
There'll be no date
Well....not now at any rate

Cuz I'm licking my lips
And sucking on bones
Fully engaging my appetite
When one observes me
He thinks he deserves me
But that ain't happening
No not tonight.

Because tonight I am solo
Not Han; as in only
Dining alone
But in no way lonely.