24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Once in my apartment
A dish flipped by itself
And the plates shifted
In a way that defied aerodynamics
And no one had just touched it
Or done a loud stomp
The house had not shaken
But still the dish did drop
And move away most weirdly
It also killed the hyacinth glass
Knocking it right down
Knowing that no one
Was home right now
There will come a day when I’m not there,
my love, I hope you won’t mourn forever.
For I’ll always be here, by your side,
when I’m in your thoughts, in that late night,
when the grief crests, and the ache starts
to rise, dark and deep and threatening
to sink you, close your eyes and remember,
beloved, not time, nor distance, nor death
can keep me far away, for I am here,
in thoughts, in memories, in mind,
and will have life eternal.
We keep talking about this
and I understand where you’re
coming from, but sometimes
there’s something to be said
for nostalgia simply for
Nostalgia’s sake – it’s been
way too long since we’ve had
a 2am phone call, since the
tweety bird lighter got magically
swapped for a salmon one – and
I know you’re not one for color
you’d rather remember the vibes
or the quoteable things that will
more than likely make your poetry
more relateable to the average person
without losing your flaire. I’m not
an average person mind you
I am a long distance forever that you
have yet to admit to needing the same
way you are needed and I am a whisper
you will never lose to time or age and
there is something marvelous about
love like this – someday you will see
this and on that day I am truly hoping
for more 2am phone calls and lighters
and promises we’ll actually follow through.
Before someone else makes good on them for you.
-M. Rene’
Warfare: After Diana Khoi Nguyen
Amidst the deafening noise of war, there’s a faint sound,
you catch a glimpse of a familiar face you once cherished.
When you witness countless soldiers who can’t speak anymore,
there’s a melody in the midst of utter destruction.
The memories of the past envelop us like a comforting shroud,
hands gently separate the halves of a ripe peach from its pit.
In the chaos of battle, a distant, faint melody emerges.
recognizing a face from your past, a cherished memory rekindles.
Amid the silent and lifeless soldiers, a haunting beauty is found,
the past memories offer solace, like hands gently freeing a peach’s sweet flesh from its core.
They arrived at dusk.
It was light
enough to see them gather
and crowd in along
the electrical wiring
above the ancient
Road house.
When the little old woman
fell, they swooped in on her doing
what carrion crows do, even
though
she’d yet to die
and begin the rotting process.
A house engulfed in silence
Empty sans for a lone crow
There is no murder at least
But it feels odd
As blue bird eyes stare
Right into my soul
And I step back
One step, two, three step, four
I step out of the door
And watch as the lone bird
Goes back into the shadows
Ready to emerge again to warn
Trespassers.
My Angel
An angel watches over me,
Inherited from my family.
My Grandmother almost went to space,
On the Challenger she was 2nd place.
My ancestors called the Donner party friend,
But split for Texas in the end.
My angel pulled me off a street,
Before a truck could have me beat.
The angel protects me every day,
And is just one reason why I still pray.
Introduction (after the ‘V’ speech, V for Vendetta)
DEE! A dastardly and different dream, derived of the desires of the dynamic,
DON’T think them a drudgery of dominant derivatives, distressed into demittance, a dame decreased to be deathly drab, a dull dirge on a darkened dawn
DO think them adroit in devices, in dreams, dragging the dispositions directly from the dutiful, demanding dedication to the divergent dyke of your desire
DRINK and devote a donation of time to domineering duke who digs into your disjunction, a deft, and dextrous deity
cw: none
One day,
when those gentle hands leave –
the window is open.
The canary sits at the edge of the window,
and feels the breeze.
The sun is warm;
the air is cool;
it feels, inside,
a song building.
It knows, though –
it knows better.
It cannot sing.
Still, it is nice to dream.
