Pursuing the poetical, paradoxical, metaphorical, lyrical, artistical, majestical, and mystical.

Thursday, August 15, 2013

Non Electric

Am I unplugged
or do these flashing
red breaker switches 
need flipped off 
to reboot my flagging
energy?

Hot current --
please flash lightning 
bolts through my flaccid 
lack of desire and make me
electric once again.  

Tree's Knees

I read somewhere
that in order to grow
to my birthright height
I must plant myself
in a grove of tall trees.
I chose a lush patch
of Giant Sequoias. I
might have made
a mistake - aimed too
high and mighty.

The warning said
never plant myself
in short bushes
or patches of small
trees because
I might
outgrow them
and become a target for
the elements which
will cripple me
and keep me
shriveled
and bent.
Staying short
makes me safe
but doesn't provide
sufficient blackmail
 to eradicate my
claustraphobic
bonzai phobias.
Adapting to survive
unrelenting erosion and
constant battering
by staying small
stifled my future grim --
 so I didn't go there. 

But this lush patch
of Giant Sequoias
 I chose keeps me
 under a shade canopy.
No matter how hard
I stretch to reach the sun
and catch a breath
of the clean air
they inhale
while they talk
and see the vistas
they see  -
I remain nose to nose --
with their knees.

They don't see me

down
            here.
            

Thursday, August 8, 2013

Homemade Daughter



Her wedding dress
lays folded
finally finished
the last stitch knotted 
buttons on 
hem pressed 
waiting to hang
till it graces her 
lovely shoulders. 

It wasn't made in China
in a factory assembled 
by strange hands or
checked by quality control
before being shipped to 
the mall store. 

There were times 
my insecurity wanted 
it to be tagged and 
stickered and priced
sophisticated like that,
but I couldn't talk her
out of homemade. 

She picked the lace 
and floating silk chiffon
that layers over a weighty
silk satin skirt. 
"Mama, could you 
make it have a small
train and leave the back
open like this?" 

She doesn't know 
I couldn't make myself
use the hem stitch foot 
to roll the bottom 
easy and quick. I needed 
to thread the needle - 
slip stitching love 
five per inch. 

She doesn't know I 
pricked my finger, 
hoping no blood stains
remained.
She doesn't know I
found the cat laying on 
it like the Queen of Sheba
nestled in a silk stole.  

After the wedding
guests leave he'll
unbutton the waist
that I button up 
before their vows. 

They prepare promises
to forsake all others 
and cleave to one 
another in sickness 
and in health, for 
better or worse, until
death parts them. 

I hate being left so they 
may do the needed
forsaking part. 

She doesn't know
she's taking 
my sunshine 
away. 

He doesn't know 
what it feels like 
yet, to be the moon.