Skip to main content

The Editor to Her Manuscript

I walk up to you, I walk away
You remain a tangle, a menace, a mystery

One day I put out a hand to you
One day I look you over, begin to measure you

Your snarl quiets. I hear a small purr.
My fear is only fear. I feel your heart’s rhythm beat

I read your heads, skim through your pages
I jump into the middle of your exclamations

Together we make sweet sentences
Smooth your rough phrases, flaunt the bold truth you were holding

I divide your dozens of thousands
Into chapters and days. You give me a page. One more

Soon we are a regular couple
Hourly we wrestle, dance, word by word. Not afraid now

All at once we don’t need each other
We’ve each given all that we could. I send you away

I think I might still linger in you
My fingerprints lightly dusting the space where you breathe

And you will always remain with me
Your quirky turns, your strange trivia, your bright brave heart
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

even better

even better than the writing is the not writing even better than the rooms are the hallways even better than the fingers are the missing rings even better than the cookies are the empty greasy spots on the baking sheet how will I know, she wondered, and her backache said, just start but where should I start, she said, and her sore feet said, right here and when do I stop, she asked but there wasn’t a good answer even harder than the aches are the wants even harder than the fists are the open hands even harder than the waiting is the being even harder than the trees are the countless, nameless, hopeful flowers I walked over a bridge, she said I opened a letter, and I learned something new I closed a book, and I missed so much I sat on a bench, and I laughed even older than the sense is the nonsense even older than the aches are the hollow rooms even older than this poem is the waiting even older than the end is the constantly shif...
1 comment
Read more

Alakazam

All of a sudden the bakery All of a mouth the creature All over hot the driveway All out of pocket the pickers All over town the regret All of a piece the rumble Alakazam, the belly All over now, the shouting All of us masked, this peacetime All over shy, this spring All of the worst, over now? Always already the bakery
Post a Comment
Read more

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
Post a Comment
Read more