in haiku

the clouds that gathered

shaded the day with darkness

shroud me, cover me.

the rain falling down

stung the thirsty ground with spears

drown my dry spirit.

The rolling thunder

Filled my ears with distraction

Overwhelm my soul.

Lightning that brightens

Flashed across the dark skyline

Illuminate me.

Hail pounding, hurting

Wounding the earth, beating up

Bruise my tender heart.

The damp, muggy air

Weighing down the heavy wind

Suffocate my lungs.

But the sun came out

marked the sky with yellow warmth

dried up all my tears.

the storm is over

struck down but never destroyed

healing has begun.

Shame

I detest him. Watched him grow up—grow up to be nothing. Worse than nothing: an irremovable stain, a leech, a venom.

His anxious smirk repulses me. His ragged, gnawed nails. Vile. His vulgar chortle. A plague. Cockeyed, yellow teeth. Shame.

Not disdain. My virtue made me do it. I stretched out. Intertwined my fingers around his malformed larynx. Crush his impossible ambitions. Expunge the pestilence.

Blood on my hands...my own blood. Broken glass. The mirror I'd glared into had shattered from the pressure of my assault.

A refashioned Narcissus. I gaze with hatred instead of love, but just as self-enamored. 

When I Was

When I was… When I was what? There are so many different words, phrases, thoughts, emotions that could finish that sentence.

When I was old.

When I was young.

When I was afraid.

When I was five years old.

When I was leaving the house.

When I was born.

When I was a kid.

When I was living.

When I was dying.

When I was a newlywed.

When I was a widow.

When I was over-the-moon happy.

When I was in the depths of despair.

A very specific time and place and person.

When I was…

When I was me. 

Already Looking

Her heart pounded.

Dare she cast a glance in his direction?

It would take courage and subtlety. It would take poise. It was a battle between fluttering heart, logical mind and a blushing face. It felt like a daring move for a shy girl such as herself. 

She turned her head slowly, pretending to look at the crowd between them. Pretending to be interested in others, when she was only interested in him.

What could go wrong?

She saw him avert his eyes suddenly as her glance fell on his slightly red face.

Her heart fluttered.

He was already looking.  

the beige house that i love so much

Rickety porch stairs
Fraying carpet
Yellow walls
Black mailbox with a white 17 on it
A front door that doesn’t quite shut
Little closets, little rooms.

Our love. It’s in the little closets and the fraying carpet. It’s in the counters stained from one too many dropped tea bags that always fall on the way to the trash can. It’s in the stained carpet and the black mailbox with the white 17 on it.
I've grown up  here.
What happens when we leave and the memories start to fade of the beige house at the end of the cul de sac with a beautiful garden all overflowing with our love?

I don't really want to leave.

Psychological 5.3.2013

What went through your mind? Did the loss of an innocent child cause you to pause?

What were you thinking as you ran? Ran for your life, leaving your dying brother?

What went through your mind as the police closed in around you? As you fired desperate shots through the hull, blood pouring from your wounds.

Did the thought of what you did scare you? Did it cause you to pause?

You have wronged Boston. Did you think you’d get away? 

The city that sparked a revolution, did you think you could snuff out it’s heart?

May justice be served.

Let them say what they want, Love

We know better

Cowards can’t shake the world we build all our own

Let them say what they will

Let the world tell us we’ll be sorry

If they haven’t learned by now, they never will

These secrets only you and I know

We’ll smile at all sages, naysayers

Why would we not delight in this miracle?

They don’t know any better, Love

And what did we know

Before love plucked us from our separate worlds?

And what do we know compared to what we will know

Of worlds, of secrets, of joy

Hide

Ready or not, they’re coming. 

Burrowing for our remains.

Hide now, be hidden. Invisible.

Don’t move don’t tremble don’t breathe – or they find you.

Be still be silent be ready – they’re coming.

With eyes that see green and boxes that see red - they’ll find you.

It’s certain.

They’re coming.

And when they’ve burned away your hiding place – they’ll take you.

When there’s nothing left but rubble and ash – they’ll kill you.

When the skies turn orange again and the stars go out – you’ll be dead.

Lost.

They’re coming.

But I’ll find you first, brother. 

I’ll find you.

I will.