The’ve all had birthdays now
all but you
All a year older
Except for you
cakes and candles
toasts and jokes
More memories and pictures
But no more for you
Weddings and babies
but not for you
Dreams and wishes
Screams and tears
all for you
Done
Gaping holes and tiny slivers
Get filled with doubt and shame
And fear and anger
Sadness and frustration
The unknown of where you are
and whys are drowning me
in the quicksand of my early nightmares
My greatest fear
Mourning you in him already
Seeing his future in 7 or 8 cans
and the ashes on the sill
The loss of you and
What you gave them
slipping away with
Every sleep
They don’t hear your name
Or Sing your song
It’s gone.
The 10
From where every thing once was
To where everything used to be
The endless gray ribbon
where it all comes to rest in my head
Walking
Walking is good for you
They see it and I know it
But, out there
There are people out there
Moms out there
New ones with their babies
Young ones with their daughters
Grandmas with their new mom daughters
Surprise and love and awe for each other
The self consciousness that neither can see in the other
And worry, always worry.
They are out here
while I walk
Until
The scream chokes in my throat
The cramp squeezes my heart
My knees buckle and
I walk away.
Walking is good for you
Easter in Tucson
Candy and Beer
Bad sleep and alone
Distracted and determined
Moving on without her
Who sings that song?
I love you, you love me?
“Mommy.” He whispered
Growing up
Was it always my goal to give it all away?
What was ever mine really?
Just absorbed the desires, wills, likes,
And dislikes of those I love
I couldn’t make them my own
You can’t steal a passion
You can’t fill yourself up
With other peoples’ shit
Holly
There is nothing of me here
Nothing for me here
But still of my creation
How did it happen
Treehouse above the lonely strange place
Where there is no room for me
Empty of me as is my heart
How could I expect to fill it now
When I have nothing left to give
Gone
Slipping into the ranks of the mentally ill
But with my job and pencil skirt
Black shiny car and black shiny heels
Seemingly clear-eyed and clear-skinned
Losing my mind
But still welcomed on the hill
Because I look the part
What if
What if God is a dick
Just a plain ol’ no romance, no excuse asshole.
That theory people have that He created us in His image.
Well, we suck so must He.
We pick each other apart and take advantage of the bursts of kindness
We assume negative intentions
And that we are out to be screwed
We fill space with ugly and sharp edges
We make others other
What if we are created in his image and He sucks too
The beauty of nature and love given only to be taken away
Peoples children die in that sparkling ocean
They are robbed of sight, hearing, arms, and legs in their best days
They are living their best lives and end up in the wrong intersection at the wrong time
What if there is a God, we are created in His image and we didn’t fall far from the tree.
Yellow Hearts and Black Hair Ties 