Truth, may be cobbled:
first having been strong
as static clings
like poppy pollen in
the school yard, for-
getting what is known
of threat
in oleander chewed of
my family’s garden,
not knowing this
poisoned flavor - I
gather a pocket of stones
too smooth and flat
like the world has been
and wandering, find still water
chewing on each before tossing
having crumbled sand in the mouth
same I was too long held
in another’s
their singing so hot: I like glass
transparently, still not quite
traceable in bright light
the truth held firmly
too round to skim the water
or stack one on top the other
but gathered like a cairn
where the river turns.
strong sun
The sky was heavy the day
I decided I liked orange
and pink together, torn
down the gray, octopus curtain
and placed a flower-bombed
flag in its place
sprinkled bits of periwinkle
to calm the delight,
a shocked, blank edge
calling where the cacophony
of color concluded
and I would sink into the heat
of a long bath, another too
cold day - the sun has slept
for weeks in Seattle,
to float between the shattering
like when I was very small
like a torn hibiscus bleeds –
laying face-up in a kiddie pool
legs a tad too long and splayed
in the time-eating heat
I tried to rub the sun from my eyes
but it just sunk in more
until I could see it behind
closed lids
like a dream in focus:
my body a boat gone
adrift
and sought this halting heat
that pauses every thing,
this version of me –
just a little more time.
endurance
The tide will come in
but I - always - outrun
upon - jutting rocks
once - being a starfish
have held - air, face-down
procrastinated - tongue
folded - words and
right to live – tendered
to – the past
like a sunflower diverted
by the sun – so will I
inevitably - halting syllables
having no root – only
sound of a creature once caught
this hobbled back - sand
between teeth
now face up - the air full
lungs stretched - elastic
as the tide - could sing now
running mid the waves.
skipping stones 