24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
Everywhere I look
another shade
to see…
spectrum, hue, intensity
in baffling degree.
Iridescent, incandescent…
rapture for a tone.
Back lit in an opal
subtle in a bone.
Woven threads and feather blends
speckles, polkas, dye!
Neon glow intensity
rainbows in the sky.
Iris blooms and lily wings
visions in
my eye.
And if sight was gone tomorrow
color still I’d see
inside my mind
behind my eyes
in shades
of brilliancy.
When I say goodbye
do you wonder like I do
when you’ll see me next?
When my hands were small, I clutched
the wand of my mother’s
curling iron, plucked from atop
the deep freezer on Madden Drive.
I held it to see how long it took
before I had to cry out in pain– I
smelled burning hot dogs, flesh
turning red but not yet black.
My palm was cold, no pain, but
something told me to release, to drop
it on my toes. When I stepped back,
I heard my mother in the kitchen
calling to me as one does to check
on a silent two year old. I cried
against my will, triumphant yet defeated
as my mother’s hurried footsteps approached.
Vibrant colors
Colors, chosen with care
Care given to painting
Painting a silly birdbath
Birdbath for the garden
Garden abundant with colors
Colors, patterned hues
Hues to help distract me
Me from having to wait
Wait for news of a baby
Baby thoughts in my head
Head bowed while painting
Painting the birdbath bowl
Bowl of vibrant colors
Colors of confetti
Confetti baths
Baths for the birds.
I painted at your feet plaid in orange and blue, while you called me “whore” and “cunt,” your toes brimming like the koi pond pressed in concrete, center square of the shopping mall.
Like, small eruptions, they blazed the fire of God’s scorching tongue dimmed only by man’s grey blunt greed.
You promised to cut me, bleed a poem to my thighs, while I raised my glass to meet your eyes, full of razor smiles slicing suggestion.
And while we slashed each other so, the violet poison misting our ears, making rhymes echo and crash the canals, cascaded down to pool in pelvic hollows of warm, viscous amethyst paramnesia.
Ending, our ruby sighs flushed pink, sailing me home to harbors bottom deep, I whispered in your smile: “Let me paint the coral’d sea beneath you orange and blue.”
Little feet in the sand,
Tread lightly, barely printing,
Move swiftly, softly.
Juxtapose: the enormity of presence,
The swell of your belly as you laugh at the gulls,
At the slick-feathered geese trailing their offspring,
At the moon-lensed sunglasses that turn to face you
And bask in your delight.
Here, the world is yours;
An open canvas of salt and spray,
Of silt and reeds,
Of mirth abounding,
And I wish fervently that it may be so forever.
We Love Because He First Loved Us
When a father’s hand cradles a daughter,
envelops her in worn and wrinkled skin,
love pours down from Heaven and lands, sprinkling
open eyes with dew and streams of rich
velvet. Chocolate tufts mingle with half-formed curls,
enwrapping her fresh face with wisps of hope,
belonging. Steam rises, the weighted touch
echoes her aching heartbeat as heavy
cords spill from her wet chest. She endures being
anointed with blood, oxygen, and stomach
untethered. The womb cries, yearning the full
shape of life to come back home, to dance,
elated within a pocket of unsevered skin.
Hope fades as nurses, doctors rush, sensing
emergency and quickened pulse. Her father
finds a place to peer through the window,
insisting to be near as her mother
rolls, contorts, and dreams of her daughter’s life
still unblossomed. Crisp golden laughter chimes
throughout empty hallways beaming pink,
light, and flowery. She stands tall, his gruff hands
overlapping hers, tracing the stomach
vividly protruding. Curled hair glows
excitedly within her, mimicking.
Daughter becomes mother, empty and full wombs
united as one. Dew forms from half-hearts,
steam and love rise the way it once poured down.
Autumn red, and the silent leaves
Release that rustle which is a scream for them.
Rolling down the road too fast and it turns red;
they scream.
Crashed and on a gurney, he reaches for her hand;
His red blood spills; she screams.
Feet up in those stirrups and pushing,
She turns red and screams.
Bursting from a womb,
his tiny red face screams.
Alone now, accounts all deep in the red,
she screams.
The little one grows to love the trumpet; her face turns red because
Even out in the garage, practice sounds like screams.
She sits in the stands, cheering and red,
Screaming for his marching band.
She forgets her hat; her thinning grey part blisters.
She forgets the red until she takes a brush to her hair and screams.
They hang a big rainbow money thermometer to fundraise for his trip.
When the red is colored in, they scream.
Judges measure the competition in audience decibels;
They’re screaming for him and the needle swings up red.
Famous now, a deferent doctor calls him about her results. Too many red numbers
Appear on the page. He drops his head but doesn’t scream.
Autumn red, and the silent leaves
Release that rustle which is a scream for them.