She kept
her head
down–a
habit of
a lifetime.
The pack caught
her scent and
wolfed their way
across the parking lot–
eyes narrowed,
noses twitching,
teeth bared.
She looked up
her face falling
into its usual place–
grieving itself
against the
whiteness
of it all.
They retreated.
it moves from left to right
and calls your name
it preys and prays
and calls you to its side
to dress you dead
the sweet deliverance
of pills that know your name
the sound of your own voice
the hidden mystery of it all
to watch death is to die
codeine has the properties of gangrene
your nerves dance like hobbled ballerinas
on toes that look like blackened twigs
your spring has been a bitter season
grown sweet before its final blossoming
roots dipped in the alkali of too much love
andante-sweet dementia-praecox
is simply another word for prayer
this is the epic of your life
to die without birth
a requiem of pain
unannounced and unashamed
I couldn’t find
my way among
the trees so
I turned back–
the darkness,
an old friend,
welcomed me.
It took my hand
and lead me down
the garden path
and I was patient
in the moonlight,
for the first time,
I was patient.
I’ve loved so
many things
the singing birds,
the summer sky,
the coneflowers
but most of all
the weeping
cherry blossom tree
that sheltered
everything but me.
I’ve lost you
but most of all
I’ve lost myself
because we shared
so many things–
the falling leaf,
the polished stone,
the tall grasses.
I’ll look for you
again, someday,
but not today–
today I’ll write
a poem and paint
a picture of the moon
and dream of gardens
where flowers never bloom.
into the
world
she ran
blue girl
blue day
nine nurses burning
on a California bridge
incendiary
passersby
filmed death
on their cell phones
and drove away alive
three women held captive for ten years
no one noticed
everyone cared
I hold my fear
in my hand
like a flower
it blooms
in the bright
light of day
lives that
could have
been so different
if they had not lived
laughing and crying
every minute
every hour
every day
I am not afraid of love
it is afraid of me
it cowers on a San Mateo bridge
in an Ohio basement
women who were loved
stolen from their lives
held captive
set on fire
and made famous
by our curiosity
you make dinner
you wash the dishes
you set the clock
you lock the door
you go to bed
this is all about being alive
the small gestures
the unconscious acts
the slow forgetting
someone you love has died
when will love return
do you miss it more
than you miss him
even the birds are
silent in this mourning
you listen for their song
suddenly the sun
rlmcdermott 