The Poetry Marathon

There’s an elephant in the room
It stands on my lips
Wraps its thick gray trunk
Around my throat
Constricting breath
Restricting honesty
Prodding me to go on
With charades and games
What this circus needs
Is a ringmaster without a whip
One with purring baritones
Or soothing tenors
To lull love into the spotlight
And make sense of the show

As a girl, young, bordering on naïve, I had a tree swing. My stepfather climbed the backyard tree to tie the ropes with hands that were accustomed to being fists. Hour upon hour I sat in the swing listening to the ropes creak and the wood pop. It became to most pleasant of my childhood melodies. The memory of that swing and its song, is not different from the song that pours forth from this soul that only learned to give forgiveness, never to receive it. Kyrie elasion! God have mercy.

Whispering wind blows
Whims and secrets known by God
Only trees have ears

The key to understanding
Is knowledge of the buttons.
Well, not exactly buttons.
Touch the screen.
Send a message.
Words typed with feeling,
(Mis)Read with suspicion.
It’s how we stay connected.
Oh no!
Don’t call.

Maybe tomorrow

birds will sing

and flowers dance

to the words of a god

speaking light and truth,

but today it’s dark

–and raining.

promises sleep
and dreams
are suffocated by Ambien
death becomes a play
told in three acts

my favorite part
is the end.

my birthday stands before me

her finger crooked, beckoning me

but to where?

feet planted, but still I race forward

vision impaired, or perhaps never clearer,

I see years gone by, a blur

of light and dark, mostly dark

some stop to remind me

there was love and laughter

tiny feet once ran my floors

and the sweetest voices knew my name

music swells around me, meant to comfort,

a sorrowful sound

the hand that guided crooked finger

clutches my wrist, no mercy

I’m pulled closer and closer

to oblivion

I could not

hold my tongue

or

watch my mouth.

The temptation was too great!

I could not be

still as a house

or

quiet as a mouse.

Because I was five, or ten, or thirty

I could not

think before I acted

or

use my head.

In fact, it’s clear now that

I did not

would not

could not

check myself

so I

wrecked myself.