That house on the hill-
how many times
have you passed it and wondered
what goes on in their hearts?
Is it wrong that you want to know, voyeur?
And today you think,
cocking your head to the side,
of the Goddess who spooned out the land
and treed it to sequester.
Do not adjust your set
This attached head
that hums,
as merrily we roll along.
That swells
at the scent of compliments,
but sees
the pricking needle at the ready.
That’s testy as a new bruise.
Has a black hole to do the vacuuming,
and packs a straight razor,
thinking of severed ears.
It’s in the wind
Walk with me today, I beg.
I feel as if there are corpuscles of sunshine,
even though the day’s light is grey-filtered.
It’s all bought and paid for, no?
So come, if you please.
I hope you are not afraid
that I might tell you secrets kept too long,
and all the reasons for a fateful change of mind.
Madmen
Pain spreads into virgin veins
and newly thought-of branches.
An insistent fist,
twisted and knuckle-pressed
into the backs of us.
We have looked, dry-eyed,
into the dark drear,
contriving a laugh,
picturing courage and rebellion
while fetal in our dampened beds.
And, in the light of day, we walk,
zombified and smiling.
Amica the Christmas Tree
This charming tale from Meg Sefton.
Something’s missing
Do you miss
Do you want
Something lost
Are you here to look
without telling?
It’s one in a million,
I sadly say.
But, star-crossed as we might be,
the future’s not ours to see.
Que sera, sera.
That’s the spirit
There’s no one to adore it.
Too hard-shelled and prickly,
I guess.
Transgressions bought and paid for.
Still, there are soft surfaces of want.
In the shower,
(hotter, hotter),
there’s that brain stem shiver.
White-eyed,
photogenic as an actor’s orgasm.
Protected: physio days
One track mind
Tell out loud
how good coffee lingers
like nicotine fingers.
Remember now
how a curly head kid
had to keep up with Dad,
no proffered hand,
in a strange land
of cigars and racing forms.
*Outta my way, kid.*
And men behind wickets
spat out the tickets
but seldom gave us money back.
And now, coffee cooling,
I think of tag-along days that are long gone.
And I remember how Dad always smelled of cigars,
though he never smoked one.
And how I came home from those days of loss
to a crying mother
and fights in the kitchen.
Arrows
This! From Abby Simpson.
“Before the first nightmare, do you remember what you were doing the day before?”
“I’d like to forget, but I remember,” he said, picking at a loose thread on one of her grey and black throw pillows. This couch, upholstered in a shade of sickly yellow-green, had seen better days. Far worse people had probably laid right where he was, he thought. But that wasn’t the question.
“I was in Jersey. New Jersey – not the island south of England. There’s a gay bar in Newark and I was supposed to be there because this guy Vinny was meeting Steve. It was love at first sight, you know? Steve saw Vinny walk in, and Vinny was nervous because he’d never been to a gay bar before. He knew his parents wouldn’t approve, but his friends were there with him. So Steve bought Vinny a…
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