Birds of a Feather

They returned today
Slinking in their new skins,
Shiny,
Dancing a mating ritual.

Confident, proud
Batting an alluring eye,
Gushing and puffing
Adventures near and far

As if tales and tokens
Could mask their uncertainty,
As if cool could hide hopes
of higher ranking

A pecking order of
Verbal highbrow banter,
Rainbowed lip gloss,
And slouched shoulders

A collection of humanity
Babes to golden agers,
Vying for prominence
Or to remain shadowed

Quick to dismiss deviation
As an unspoken definition of

The collective unique.

The Weight of Water

This was in response to the boys who watched a man drown, while ridiculing him

 

“Your deeds are your monuments” – inscription on Egyptian tomb

In a flicker,
Across the boundaries of time,
I read in granite
“Your deeds are your monuments.”

Throughout this life and the next,
Carry your monument
Of inaction and ridicule,
Feel its density.

Feel its weight,
Like the weight of water,

Pulling a man below
The surface of your conscience.

 

Sugar, Salt & Dead Fish

Steamy, hot, and thickly humid,
The ocean dispatched its savory scent
To lure us forward.
Uncertainly, we followed.

Setting out an unfamiliar quartet,
Of mismatched notes and bellows,
As unharmonious as
Rusted steel against glass.

Lugging beach chairs,
Umbrellas, and discontent
That he who binds us
Chose not to accompany us.

Gratingly,
we trudged against the burning sand,
As well as each other,
Selecting a “spot.”

With pinching, sandy shorts, salted lips,
And exclamations of misery,
Suddenly, it came to me
In the form of a dried, crusty crab.

“I’m building a castle,” I announced.
My three charges looked apprehensively,
One to the other,
Before searching, excitedly for adornments.

Each scrambled,
Scouring the beach near and far,
To contribute to the Masterpiece
Symbolizing a truce, a unity.

Ours was never meant to be calm,
Too much sugar, salt, and dead fish
To create a smoothie, yet
Stormy- we settled for a stormy union.

Made of gale winds,
Fluctuating temperatures,
Carping and fluking,
Tart as lemons.

Its beginning a crusty ole crab,
Encased in sand,
Decisively placed atop the magnificent,
King Crab Castle.

Sugar Ants

Resisting the parting adieu,
My fingertips drift
Tracing the slightest impulses
Of your skin
Warm, alive, and crackling.

I breathe in your scent,
Rich, earthy, and clean
Willing it imprints to
Memory upon my DNA,
To call up again and again.

Your nearness never fails
To tenderly soothe,
Your breath ghosts my neck
Heals and arouses,
The far reaches of my soul.

You reach, brush against,
My neck squinches in,
Resists, allows, resists,
An exquisite rush like
Dancing sugar ants to a prize.

My entire being, knows,
Silently shouting,
Heart hesitating,
Its’ rhythm disturbed,
Beating half pulses,

You must swim up
From the fragrant sweetness,
Before surrendering to
The careless pre-dawn slivers
through the blinds.

Talons

Worn leather soles grip
Balanced on a tightrope,
Like famished talons stronghold,
Between Intuition and Trust.

Visceral pangs and twinges
Echo in a canyon,
Reverberating, ignored,
Unacknowledged.

Concede a hope in humanity,
Relegating trust
To the carnivorous,
Masked, charming menace.

Yet, can it be
Decried betrayal when,
Willingly one ragged foot
Assuredly steps forward,

Well beyond certainty.

A Farewell

Farewell, my Faina
Your delicate presence,
Brief, slight appearance,
Dissipates as dandelion puffs.

Farewell to my
Chantilly lace bride,
Joyous twinkling eyes,
A hope born of Faith.

Farewell to Russian spyskies,
And the shake-shake-shake,
Potato peelers and holidays,
Alight from warmth within.

Farewell to men of gingerbread,
Where will they live now?
Or will they lie,
Unshapen, lifeless in the bowl.

Farewell to an adventure,
A girl’s junket,
Stringing beads,
Rolling pins and pies.

Farewell sweet nesting,
Downton Abbey marathons,
Reading, bundled,
Into unconsciousness.

Farewell my unborn babe,
Tendrils of you and mine,
A countenance divine,
Held for another hour.

Farewell to a hummingbird’s
Whisper of laughter and lightness,
No uncertainty and hesitation,
Now decisive with direction.

Farewell book well read,
Book well worn,
Book well loved.
Last page, The End.

Farewell my Snow Princess,
In search of Forsythia,
Who must,
Crack a new binding,