I’m still here
though only a shadow
of who you think you know.
i’ve shined my light
a bit too bright
so i think i’ll step offstage.
it’s comfortable here
behind these velvet curtains
i’m not questioned, not uncertain.
but i see you trying to peek,
wondering how i learned to be meek.
what i learned instead? how to be me.
the mother of all songbirds
chatters away above
their cacophony,
her shrill tweets
outpacing even
the most diligent mouths
as they call out,
beaks wide open,
begging for food,
begging for love.
she flaps her wings
and darts around them,
her song more urgent,
its notes bolting into the sky
like flashes of lightning,
blinding everyone
with her circle of absorption,
feeding no one,
loving no one.
perhaps she’ll hear
(before it’s too late)
the beauty of their song,
perhaps she’ll see
(before they’re totally blind)
the urgency of their needs.
but until she learns
to think instead of tweet,
they will wait,
their mouths open,
ready for the quiet wings
of the song she keeps inside.
it is recipe,
apple,
zucchini,
pumpkin
season.
the kitchen smells
like cinnamon
concocted with cream
and nutmeg, cloves
pungent with their
pinch in the pie,
spiced apple skins
and pumpkin shells
lining the counter tops
and floors,
sticky with sweetness,
sticky with sweat.
hours at the stove steaming
and prodding and pulling,
wafts of breads,
pumpkin glop,
pies perfectly rounded,
pot roast waiting
for the midday meal.
it is recipe,
apple,
pumpkin,
zucchini,
bread,
pie,
harvest
season.
they are a juxtaposition
placed together for effect
tall as a beanpole
short as a stump
how could they fit?
it is a juxtaposition
that we are late
always early, us
always late, them
and now they’re complaining?
we are a juxtaposition
placed together for effect
introverted tech-o,
extroverted poet,
together making every position work.
black and white
today, yesterday
calm and fright
there is no gray
a pastured cow
a startling contrast
the future now
my mind the past?
i take away
i give it back
they sway and sway
with words attack.
tomorrow is now
and blindingly bright
this pastured cow
shall see the light.
you have taken the cake
on an already black-letter day
putting your foot in your mouth
and ruining every cliche.
it’s raining cats and dogs
but you beat around the bush
i wish the cat had my tongue
instead you’ve turned shove to push.
i’m about to blow my top
because you’ve gotten out of hand
your idiom (IDIOT) won’t stop
but I am not a yes-woman or man!
you have worn out your welcome
I’m not wet behind the ears
you may think I’m wishy-washy
but you’re jumping the gun on your tears.
flashes of light
taking the night
flashes of day
take me away
flashes of pain
oh the disdain
flashes of angst
on temples bang
flashes of now
pounding my brow
flashes of then
coming again
flashing frustration
on this situation
flashing impatience
removing my patience
flashes of light
taking my night
flashes of day
take me away.
it’s election day
and instead of red or blue
i’m wearing purple
i didn’t consider
when sleepy-eyed
i picked this passion,
two layers of
red-mixed-with-blue,
violent violet,
that i’d be combining
both parties.
this is where i am now.
no, not in the middle
no, not wary of my political stance
no, not accepting the other side.
just purplish
feeling a bit
done
done
done
with politics
that with any combination,
redbluepurple,
bring angst
into our lives.
if i could be any animal,
i’d never choose
a ferocious lion,
a bravely scavenging bear,
a hawk hunting all night.
how silly
to think anyone would.
i’d be you, of course,
my always-a-baby Chihuahua
curled up on top of her owner’s cold feet,
snuggled under blankets all winter,
given scraps right from the fork,
sleeping and loving and breathing.
yes, that’s the life.
no hunting, scavenging, ferocity.
just peace, love, simplicity.
just you and me girl.
they’re all decked out for
the devil’s birthday
(Hallelujah!)
in Princess Mulan,
clown, cheerleader,
lion, samurai, and pirate.
no hallelujah party for us tonight,
but steps down dark streets
ringing doorbells
and saying hello to neighbors
whose blown-up pumpkin balloons
hover like glowing monsters
over the kids’ trail of treats.
we’re devilish, aren’t we?
letting them plan out this night
for months, pulling seeds from pumpkins,
creating costumes to die for,
seeing them work up a sweat
in their mad dash for candy?
yes, we’ve missed the hallelujah party,
given in
to the American dream of Halloween,
but for one night a year,
when we all pretend to be
something other than ourselves,
when we all remember
the thrilled excitement of the candy rush,
i think this steals the devil’s show.
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