The Poetry Marathon

Purify me
Douse me in your holiest water
And your strongest rubbing alcohol.

Clean me
Scrub me with steel wool
And scrubbing bubbles with bleach.

After all that 
Maybe for once
I will be free of dirt and sin

Belabored breaths beat out of my chest,
There is no end to this forest in sight.
Sore soles scuff against the soil,
I fear I cannot take another step.
I wander through the wild wood withal,
My only company the susurrus of leaves above.
And leaves surrounding
The quiet is maddening.

Hours pass
Coherency is just as lost as I
Somehow I still stumble forward. 
 
 

Shy kid hiding behind second violin
We lock eyes for a moment
Before both looking away.

We sit next to each other
Talk about Harry Potter
Then he thinks to himself

"I'm gonna marry them
If I don't kill myself first."

I am his fake serotonin
Our lives depend on each others
An unspoken blood pact.


I cut, he cuts.
He starves, I starve
Such is the way of our contract.

She created you, birthed you
from her own flesh and bone
Every atom, every twist of DNA
Was all by Her design.

You were once the spring leaf 
Of an old tree long gone.
You were the mud on the riverbank.
You were the star that exploded
And made our solar system.

You are a part of your home
A part of this Earth
Just as a snail 
Is a part of her shell.

Next time it is dark
And you can't find your roots
Remember this:
The land knows you even when you are lost.

The streetlights turn on
And the night has begun
My work is not done.

Dripping, verdant land
The air is made fresh again
Life becomes pleasant.

I say I miss you,
But I never even knew you
Where did you go?
Who are you supposed to be?

Are you kind
Are you fair
When you're sober,
Talking to me?

How could you leave
Before I even got the chance
How could you betray us all
Before I got the chance to know you?

You said you love me
But how can that be true
If all you do
Is drink your life away?

Does it make me soft
That I feel kinship with the milkmaid
From times long gone?

Does it make me weak
That I long to make a home 
Warm and comfortable and safe?

Does it make me teutonic
To desire a flourishing garden
And a family well fed?

Why should I shy away
From the traditional femininity
In ways that are not stifling?

Why can I not be soft?

Gentle hands lift me up,
Whisper sweet things
You think I can't hear.

Plunge me down
Into the soft black,
Half bury me.

Sweet things once again
Now you give me a drink
And pat around me.

I don't know much
About windowsill life
But I'm sure I'll grow to like it here.

Do you miss me?
When the snow swallows your house
And your only company is in your dreams?

Do you dream of me?
I dream of you,
Through warm Mediterranean nights

When the air is soft around me
I wonder, I hope,
That your winter quilt is softer.

Spring is coming soon
I'm scared to return to you,
though why I cannot say. 

Perhaps it's because I know
That when you see me
You will say

"I miss you,
Did you miss me too?"