5/30 Cutting Down Trees
Lush green leaves, waxy, thick with fragrant blossoms.
I sat underneath, sheltered from bright sun,
The noise of neighbors in their yards
Or my parents fighting inside
Muffled beneath the umbrella of rhododendrons.
The afternoon quiet rips open with the sound
of metal eating into wood–chainsaw shaving away
green hedges of evergreen and rhododendron
in the yard across the street.
Greenery falls away, piling on the curb
Trees turned to so much rubble
I watched from the sanctuary of their shade
From the comfort of their embrace.
6/30 Church Dress
Puffy sleeves and skirt with lace
I understand Anne Shirley’s desires
when first she voiced her longing
Puffed sleeves and a skirt with lace
loose, flouncy, swishy when I walked
and woosh out and around when I twirled,
continuing to swing long after I came
to stillness.
Puffy sleeves and a flowy skirt with lace
Shiny white patent Mary Janes
the cuff of a lacy sock rolled down,
the lace just above the strap.
Puffy sleeves and a skirt with lace,
I felt so pretty. Even though the shoes
slipped on bark and the skirt got caught on twigs
when I climbed trees, I still loved twirling
in my skirt and seeing the shine on my shoes–
Until he took me away from everyone
down a dark hallway and told me my dress
was just too pretty to resist.
Short skirt in a club; it doesn’t swirl or swish
it fits close to my hips. There’s no lace and
no sleeves to catch anyone’s attention and
I just want to dance when he pulls me from
the dance floor and tries to get me outside.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t want it,” they say, later on.
“That skirt isn’t a church dress.”
Jeans and a t-shirt, a sweater over it;
nothing flashy or bright, just clothes
to cover my body, clothes to feel comfortable
for a long day of research and writing.
He talks to me as I walk home.
I half smile, return his greeting, keep moving.
Adjust headphones in my ears, avert eyes away.
He walks along, bids for my attention,
ignoring my signs to leave me alone.
I try to think where to go
so he won’t know where I live.
He grabs my arm, rough.
“You should be grateful for the attention.”
A push to try to get me to go where he wants.
But now I’m not in my church dress
not in my scant club clothes. I shove him off.
His words don’t sting, and, surprised, he leaves.
Church dress, club dress, no dress…
I can’t dress in a way to protect myself
and tonight I feel lucky that shove was enough
to discourage him from taking what he wanted.
7/30 Cigarette Smoke
Inhale heat into my lungs
hold curling gray in my throat.
Exhale, stifling a cough.
Behind the bar, passing, not weed,
but a cigarette, from person to person.
Just a couple drags, that’s all I really want;
never a whole cigarette, just a couple drags
to take me back…
Back to the smoke mixed with whisky in his kiss.
Back to smoke and “Happy” perfume mingled in her hair.
Back to the smoke-filled room while he taught me to play pool.
Back to smoke in my clothes, even though I never smoked,
that I tried to stifle with Febreze.
I just want a drag, or two, to take me back.
8/30 Dreams of the Future/Count Your Hopes
The eclipse obscures but
the eclipse reveals
A time of astrological energy,
an unleashing of Aries’ determination
and impatient action
Tempered by Chiron’s healing promise.
I hope for change, I hunger for change
Yet I feel stuck in the strange light
of moon over sun.
Which action to take? Which path to follow,
to bring dreams of a caring world to fruition?
Which action to take, for love to define my life?
Which action to take, for love to be the foundation
Upon which we all can stand?
The eclipse obscures but the shadows
reveal more truth than full sun.
Shadows reveal what we hide,
What we protect from
the staring eyes of others.
In the shadows, I’ve kept my hopes
hidden away.
In the shadows, for fear hope
was a fragile thing with feathers
that would melt under sun’s heat.
In the shadows, though, my hope
found ways to sustain itself
and in the full dark of moonlit day,
the shadow withstands scrutiny.
Love can come from the shadows
Love, unashamed in its desires,
Love, starry-eyed and foolish, maybe,
but love is the root of liberation.
Love is the root of all change.
Ink and Vein 