Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Burning Again

It's been long enough, I think, since I’ve been consistent on here. I'd really like to be consistent in more things. For example:
  •  Getting up in the mornings to read and stretch and move before the Goobers get up.
  • Looking at the stars, especially when the moon is huge and round to hang out with too.
  • Vacuuming.
Just to mention a few.

Also, to write here every Tuesday like I did before this. So I offer you some lovelies to get things burning again:

Same Thing

I laughed because I didn't know what else to do.
Really I was squirming inside my skin.
Kicking and screaming inside my stretchy skin.
He touched my skin with strange hands,
and he kissed my skin with strange lips.

A stranger to me --
I had never seen him before.

A stranger to him --
he didn't ask who I was, who I am,
just assumed he'd make me feel full?

I wish he wouldn't have touched me.
I wish he wouldn't have kissed me.
I wish he wouldn't have assumed anything.
No. I wish I wouldn't have laughed.

Two women stood witness.
Their eyes --
I wish I could have disapeared into their round.
Now when women laugh, I try to really listen.
If they need them,
I try to offer my eyes.
Hollow places where they can be swallowed,
just for the moment, if they so wish it.

Sometimes, when people make that face,
I can't tell if they are laughing or crying.
Sometimes, maybe it's the same thing.


The Game

I know what you want me to say,
so I'll say it,
because I don't want to see you again.

I know what you don't want me to say,
so I won't,
because I don't want to see you again.

I know the game.

I know the face you want me to wear.

You put your feet up on the chair.
In China that gesture is offensive.
I wear Chinese symbols for a reason.

But I'm in debt to you,
so it doesn't matter what I want you to do,
and it doesn't matter what I wear for me.

I will not wear my own face in front of you.

You don't want me to.

I know your game,
and I play it,
because I never want to see you again.


 Hide and Seek

Pearls yearn.
We're born of sperm.
We sit and squirm.
What questions are okay to ask?
To think, and then say out loud?
For you I burn.

But that's not a question.
Is it?
What lays inside,
yearning to come out?
Where do we look --
awkward --
when those questions come out?

You wrap your shells around me
and I am safe on your soft tongue.
From them I come.
For you I hum.
And when I'm ready,
I will be said out loud.

Ready or not,
I'm going to open my eyes.

original here


  1. Ooh, yummy! This is so exciting to see you here again! And with such aching little delicious morsels to whet our appetites? It's a mighty good day, indeed.


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