I
There is a little car,
it can get us pretty far,
300+ miles, to not be exact,
somehow that thing,
it stays in tact.
II
The car's now parked next
to the lawn,
that's pretty,
but half overgrown,
unlike the piles of itchy hand-me-downs.
We still have nothing of our own.
III
I close my eyes, imagine
her dressed in lilacs
and daffodils,
I awaken, remembering
her legs are prickly,
and bare.
With scratches,
from excessive irritations.
IV
Her dress is covered in lilacs
and daffodils,
she is somewhere, dreaming,
she is anywhere but here.
She has her own footstool.
She has her own name.
V
Her face is painted pale,
faded blue, her teeth-
red bricks with bloody
mortar.
No one ever visits her.
Moldy footprints on the step,
-on their way out.
Well, now, here-
We are.
Home, crap, home.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
-
two squinting painted eyes looking solemn on a leathery face. this knight of the golden age has a 20 gallon bucket of a hat atop his slicked...
-
to have sticky pins for fingertips and ballpoint pens for thumbs. then I could fascinate myself to you, and write away doldrums.
-
July 7th the face of a rose deflates our windowsill- not much of a garden. July 8th after the party- a painting is crooked I think someone d...
-
our silence comes easy and there is much to it the commingling of our fingers and the swapping of palm oils and the nimble saltation of ...
-
July 9th i feel like running again. it's either that or swimming in a valley of tears. July 10th you couldn't tell by looking at us,...
-
Out the window, I thought I saw Emily pale, gawking. a green T-shirt. bouncing firey springs on her head.
-
Rain, dearest friend. You know just when to pound on my head. I know there is more to this world, than what I have given from inside myself....
-
Tickling toes- there was something about that barefooted madness something about that wistful waist-high wishing and wooshing in the woods, ...
-
husband and I trek a mile for ice cream just for the creamy banana, crunchy pecans, and chunks of thumb-sized chocolate. shoes flipping and...
-
The ache in my jaw reminds me of my age, that I'm still cutting teeth on broken sage and giving up meat is my best bet, because I'm ...
Extremely vivid descriptions here. I've noticed that is a strength of yours in your writing. I envy you for that, since description is not one of my strong suits.
ReplyDeleteCheers.
I love this, Amy...very emotional, love the separation and the tones in each part... <3
ReplyDelete