Circles (Hour 13, #1)

Circles

 

Running is often mistaken for freedom

Though I do love it

Especially near the reservoir

Observed by curious geese

Once past the body’s protestations

Blood pulses, echoing

The steady beat of hip hop

Like an insistent hand at my back

 

Distraction really

The geese do not see what snarls as the heels of my purple Rykas

Trying to put distance between then and now

Echoes of your panting breath in my ear

Your hand at my back, sweat between my breasts

The thrum of yearning between us

Pounding

 

The gaggle titters approvingly,
Unasked questions poised on tips of beaks

A goose honks then hisses

Maybe she sees after all

Been a long time!

Hello….I haven’t been able to participate for the past few years but I’m looking forward to stretching my writing muscles once more. Boston is cool and rainy…perfect, moody writing weather. Looking forward to reading everyone’s work!

The Drive-By (#12)

There was no warning

Just a waft unleashed on the unsuspecting
Without pity
Without care

I did not see him
He flew by so fast
His scent snapped my neck
Whiplash
And my balance wavered

Hands on my thighs, eyes closed
Momentarily overcome by
woody liqueur, cigar and clary sage
Perhaps the musk of wild cat or jasmin rouge
An explosion of color behind paralyzed lids

Cinnamon
Smoky yet sweet
Patchouli and amber
Oh, Indian sandalwood!
Oh, Tahitian vanilla!

I am sailing for the West Indies, or maybe
The Mediterranean, under a wicked spell
I am obsessed, intensely euphoric
Bulgari? Acqua di Gio?
Pour Homme
Mon Dieu

Dior
Guilty
The catalyst of my undoing
Air redolent with spicy clove
I am on my knees
Felled by a faceless
Stranger

Firefly (#11)

Winter has been long and cold
No sign of you in the marshes of Malaysia
So I left
And here I remain
Waiting

The glass jar is cozy enough
Warm rain falls through holes in the roof
Reminiscent of the swamp

I glow
Yellow, then green, then
Pale red
I try them all, to draw you near

I do not think I am of the tribe
Femme fatale
I promise I won’t eat you
(Wings crossed)
Who can blame the brain made drunk by pheromones?
Don’t be afraid

Follow the blinking beacon to my side
Nectar awaits

I cannot fly to you


Conteur en Tutu (#10)

I envy the ballerina
I am not proud of this
Her every graceful move
Encapsulates entire chapters of prose
Epic stanzas of verse

I envy her, the master storyteller
Who need only strike an artful pose
An elegant arabesque
A poignant pirouette
A port de bras of such ache and beauty that
Tears pour
Full hearts overflow

I envy her tiny, shapely form
Epitome of strength, yet delicate
Which inspires the equally beautiful men to
Lift them in an exquisite show of power and protection

I have only my lonely quill
Wielded with a virtuoso’s skill
To pluck the heartstrings
Word by spellbinding word
A glissade on the page
Carrying the reader overhead to the final turn of the page
The final flourish at story’s end

*conteur=storyteller in French

Èlixir (#9)

Dark and rich
My lover
Black as ink
Life-giving
Like Water and Air

Perfect balance of
Earthy, roasted seed and cream
Sugar and cinnamon, a pinch
Vanilla softens bitter edges

Too hot to consume quickly
Savoring, a lost art
Swallowed up in the immediacy of
The daily grind

Sweet and spicy, como yo
There is only one nectar
One God

But it tastes like liquid magic

We, The Elephants (#8)

Magnificent creature
I am in awe of your beauty
Envious of your herb-fueled strength
I want to love like you love
Deeply and without reservation and forever
I want to mourn like you mourn
Deeply and without reservation and forever
Caress the white-washed skeletons
With tender trunks, joined in honor and sorrow
Revering the fallen for as long as it takes

Not like the Mbuti
Who believe the ancestors inhabit this current body
I do not see my grandmother in your eyes
Or the Igbo
Who bury the dead with your tusks
You touch the living, say everything
With a tender stroke, playful slap, a nudge
You remember everything

In a perfect world, we would be friends
Walk beneath the sun and stars
Raise each other’s babies

At the end
I hope it is you
I hope it is you who stands over me
Who guards my bones
You who touches them with tenderness
And remembers

To Whom It May Concern (#7)

Dear Me
You are strong
Too Strong
Be fragile
Trust that there is strength to be found in
Vulnerability

If you do not cease
You will die
You will crumble like the walls of Jericho before your very own eyes
And it will not be a good or pretty death

It will hurt now and it will hurt later
The sting of death will be so much worse

You have been warned
With Love,
Always
Ruthless, unrelenting
Love

I Promise (#6)

Lyric

for Lyric

Brown-eyed Baby Girl
Sing, baby, Sing
All the words of your heart are there
Right there, visible
Your tongue trembles with prayer

Brown-eyed Baby Girl
Speak, baby, Speak
I see your words in the
Swirling depths of color that frame your soul
Gifts from your mother

Brown-eyed Baby Girl
Smile, baby, Smile
Your daddy’s teeth are gleaming
Beneath your braids and colored baubles
Your beauty is breath-defying

Brown-eyed Baby Girl
Laugh, baby, Laugh
This is the praise that delights God
Teach us, dear one
Teach us about joy

Brown-eyed Baby Girl
Dance, baby, Dance
A key exists that will unlock all of your secrets
Unchain your soul, unfurl your voice
Your feet are free to spin and twirl and leap, unbound

We will find this key
Sweet Brown-eyed Baby Girl
We will be relentless in our quest
Until then

Love
My Brown-eyed Baby Girl

LOVE