Poetry 

 

 

a bouquet of bruises 

 

flowers of blue

are drawn to you— 

on your face, they bloom, 

from your mouth, they spew.

 

you plant flowers of blue 

on my face, so new. 

and I willingly darken 

my eyes for you.

 

 

 

 

time 

time is a bicycle 

with limbs stuck in the spokes

riding through the lives

of those who have too much hope 

patience

 

I asked my mother if I could borrow her patience,

and she said, “Of course, just wait a minute.”

cashmere raindrops 

 

The cashmere covered raindrops 

made the dark lavender pain stop 

 

in my lonely glass room 

that’s been splattered with dark blues 

 

From the time I threw my brain at the wall 

Because I was sick of hearing about you!

 

All the memories and the feelings, 

the ineffective remedies for healing 

became an evergreen vineyard 

that grew across the ceiling. 

 

I couldn’t see the rain 

In my glass house of pain, 

and I missed it everyday, 

I missed it every single day. 

 

On a naked linen Saturday 

I turned the lights off .

The house didn’t like this much, 

and the vines grew soft. 

They were molding into cashmere, 

like the falling raindrops ,

and I don’t know why, but in the dark

all the talking stopped.

They fell from the ceiling, 

and I could see the glass. 

The windows started breaking 

And I forgot the past 

 

I felt the cashmere on my skin,

the cashmere raindrops. 

In the cold, I was so warm 

without you in my thoughts.