Monthly Archives: December 2016

Lost cat

If I’m going to let you in
you better show up.
If I’m going to lower this guard
you better put down all your weapons.
If I’m going to expose my heart
you better be gentle.

This fear is like a little lost cat
who can’t find it’s way home,
who’s hungry and cold and miserable.
This anxiety is how all the kids
on the little league team feel
when the worst batter is up to bat
and they already have two outs
and the score is tied
and it’s the eight inning.
This impatience is like a sailing vessel
in the 19th century
before modern navigational technology
with its wanting mates scanning the horizon
desperately.

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My open hands

Everything around me is falling down,
sleepily,
and facing crisp death,
heads turned upward toward the moon,
toward the heavens,
to the universe,
but my broken pieces
have come back to life,
have made me whole. I am wide awake
watching death
with a smile.
I want to touch each delicate piece
of death with grace,
graze them with my fingertips
and my lips,
brush up against them with my chest.
See how death sparkles,
see how it shines,
but I still don’t want it,
I will still let it’s confetti pieces
fall toward the ground from my open hands.

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