Skip to main content

I keep coming across the same stranger

I keep coming across the same stranger, and she wants me to dream in the same color green. To beat the rugs to precision, hanging as they do in patterned formation, Persian, Southwest, Chinese, deep red, oh the ocher repeating, what do we see? I keep coming across the same stranger, and she creaks with the knees she has danced on forever out of my sight. I keep throwing my elbows up and out and swigging the potbellied Koolaid, this is a childhood I won’t escape, this is a dance I won’t remember. I keep letting go of the same things, eyelid by eyelid, there isn’t an end to this riddle, it isn’t sweet but it tastes like it, there isn’t anything left at the end. I keep letting go of the same things and my hands ache from opening, from being empty. I keep letting go of the same things and in the distance the worldbeat mows and scrapes, drills and races.

I keep coming across the same stranger, and she whispers in someone else’s ear but it echoes in mine. She dances in someone else’s body but it hurts in mine. She dreams in someone else’s language but I wake up in mine. I keep coming across the same stranger, and she speaks to me in the same riddle, and if her mother is dead, like mine, then aren’t we the same? She is two steps ahead of me, three steps behind, and we are each wrapped in bubbles that will not pop. I keep coming across the same stranger, and I won’t say the words, it would be too easy, I open my hands again and I let go. I keep letting go of the same things. I keep coming across the same stranger.

I keep coming across the same stranger, and she is certain. Oh, to be certain. That she is. She cannot be me because she is certain and I am so busy letting go. She is certainly me but I must let her go. I keep letting go. She comes back.

I keep coming across the same stranger, and her world is small, but she and I are enormous. She can’t smell colors, I can’t see flavors, we both keep bumping into things. I try to make sense, she tries to unmake it, we’re never in the same place and oh, I keep coming across the same stranger.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

My own lone self (ghazal)

I wanted a minute’s breath to quiet my hectic own self I wanted the voices held away from my frenzy-prone self I thought, let me close my eyes and hold my face in my hands Just like that I was in a world apart with my unknown self It was meant to be only a moment, to still my jangled thoughts But I stayed there, unhooked, unplugged, with my dreamzone self I’m a little girl. I’m a gawky teen. I’m a weird aging woman I’m a dancing fool sitting stone still alone with my own grown self Just me and the quiet. Just me held safe in my own cool hands A circle of peace around this jangly shaky-bone self The magic is usually deep in the snaking threads that keep us webbed Tonight I cut them all to spend time with my sole lone self I’m a silent rebellion, a party of one, my face in my strong cool hands A prayer of my own in this alien world, hauling home my far-flown self

One Year In (Anniversary Landays)

I cannot make the way smooth for you Young lovers chiseling out your own path on this earth I’ve been squinting through this old keyhole With my blindest eye, been singing my wobbliest notes I feel windows open for dancing I smell the fresh bread of tomorrow punching higher All across the land toes are digging Into dirt, pebbles, grass, wood - every foot a new shape First son, new daughter, you make me glad There will be breath, there will be food, there will be cartwheels

Hay(na)ku sonnets

April 10 Napowrimo prompt: Today’s prompt (optional, as always) is another one from the archives, first suggested to us by long-time Na/GloPoWriMo participant Vince Gotera. It’s the hay(na)ku). Created by the poet Eileen Tabios and named by Vince, the hay(na)ku is a variant on the haiku. A hay(na)ku consists of a three-line stanza, where the first line has one word, the second line has two words, and the third line has three words. You can write just one, or chain several together into a longer poem. For example, you could write a hay(na)ku sonnet, like the one that Vince himself wrote back during NaPoWriMo 2012! So, some hay(na)ku sonnets: Silverware Drawer Spoons plain forks the rattly knife Curves simple sans-serifs all size spoons We emptied out all the extras I washed out the metal tray Now it’s perfect Spacious silverware drawer *** Coronaworld Problems First ...