afterwards

images

 

She picked up his bones

scattered in the yard,

and took them into the house.

 

Her workshop was cluttered;

so she cleaned off a spot, and

orderly stacked them up.

 

Days went by, then weeks,

and finally years. The bones

collected dust like mementos.

 

One day, stumped, she looked

up from her work, and saw

the neatly stacked dry bones.

 

She laughed as she remembered

him, then went to work:

drilling, weaving, balancing.

 

She sang as she worked, happy

at last to be creating so freely

from his humble remains.

 

Finished, she took what she had

made from him, and hung

it from an old oak tree.

 

It danced a hollow dance,

clattering as the bones clacked

together with every wind.

 

In the evenings she would sit,

and sip a glass of wine, happier

than she had ever been with him.

 

(August 7, 2018)

Drawl

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A time to speak up

 

Think of it

Not

As punctuation,

But rather

Dialect, decorated

By accented diacritical marks.

 

If I speak in such

A manner that’s averse

To the way your words wander,

Perhaps you should listen

To how variations

Play across our story:

 

Resistance exists

Along the blade

Of consonant’s hiss and click.

As the oldest god

Has whispered before:

The word changes the world.

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(December 20, 2017)

She’s Present

Do you see
            the air thicken
                        in thought?
As she speaks,
            the light refracts
                        through all
a shimmer,
            like the moon
                        upon a black lake.
The words pull the world
            tightly around us like skin,
                        ecstatic and vibrant.
Each soft chant:
a new iteration.
Each soft chant:
a way away.
Each soft chant:
her mind’s kiss.

(March 6, 2017)