poetry

the intensity of transformation

I’ve been holding this position

Breathing through it

For too long now.

Numb hands, Numb feet.

I look at you and

Decode your

Poker face,

Offer up some tangled

body language,

But you don’t see me.

“No release, no not yet”.

I project myself

Onto your body.

More tangled,

More numb,

Miserably,

Presuming,

Just tell me god

Is there a “yet”?

Tangled forever like

Clementines hair,

Like

My Hair in college.

I cut it all

Off though,

You know.

I’d rather be bald

A Hairless cat

Then tangled up,

Beautiful,

Waiting

Meekly

A dog with my

Leg in the air

Ashamed.

Standard
poetry

the acupuncturist

I was so afraid to leave you
I didn’t realize this
until recently,

when she, with delicate fingers,
swiss-cheesed the lobes of my ears and
the flesh between my toes,
and placed over my eyes a terry cloth towel
to block the nosy sunlight
from distracting me.

Holy
nose,
toes,
ear lobes,
white walls,
crystals,
salt rocks,
the digital rendering of a waterfall.

Flat on my back,
belly exposed,
sweaty palms crossed
over breasts;
nose working over time.

the moisture worked
its way up and out,
tear drops surrendered sleepy
yawns, obeyed
and fell in line,
leached
from organs and
tissues,
they
called to each other
reunited in swollen eyelids
and proclaimed:

FREEDOM FREEDOM FREEDOM

(or, “I am not afraid to leave you,
I left you.”)

and on the seventh day
the Lord saw what he had made,
and said

“It IS GOOD.”

Holy
nose,
toes,
ear lobes,
white walls,
crystals,
salt rocks,
the digital rendering of a waterfall.

Standard