MEMORY LAPSE

Cold midnight air catches sobs in its glassy
web suspending them in unnatural
frozen clarity
a lacework of frost where unchecked
tears freeze on her cheeks. Snow blows against
breasts as her gown
flutters open, buttons undone. Her body-too
cold to melt the tiny flakes
that pile against her pale skin-unawakened,
she casts her gown aside, white on white,
silk on snow.
Rattling the doorknob, screams blow
out on a gust of milky vapor, hung in frozen air like
an echo disappeared.
Bouquets of cinnamon scent the kitchen like pies
her mother never baked.
Spare light bulbs and Band-Aids fill her hall
closet. She planted
geraniums on the porch-talismans-charms
to exorcise the past.
The ghosts, the memories, the madness
find her here. Nothing
could keep them
away, not charms or cookies, not locks
or lifestyle.
The frozen tears melt to run down her
cheeks as if wept anew. She leaves
a note full of lies propped
against the mantel like some modern-day
Jane Eyre.

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RECIPE FOR CHOCOLATE MILK--AFTER MATH

spilled seed and splayed hand
across a rounded belly
chocolate syrup squeezed
in spiraled curl through cold
homogenized whole milk
spirit spoon clank and stir
in crystal tinkling rhythm
blend the jeans
twined ankles tangled sheets
slithering silks and satins discarded
in a twisted trail with cotton denim
leather her blouse his pants caught
in a casual embrace
on the dining room table
one dark leg snaking over
turned chair tied in pristine white
silk arms
we cooked our last dessert

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WINDOWS 1997

I didn't want to lose you
after having dreamt for five long months
my hands pressed to the glacial window
I called to you for help
dreamed you had a desire
to meet me your feet
in cotton stockings beige and warm
I couldn't stop thinking about the beaches
we would walk and the love we would make
beneath our flannel sheets
we laughed with tears
running down our cheeks
there was a hidden empty territory
inside my life without words
without caresses
you slid into the vacancy
searing my soul
melting that frozen fingerprinted window
I knew your fragility
I knew I was leaving
I wanted to borrow the vision
of your flame
I wanted to be sure I would find you
when I would be back

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BIRTH

Climbing trail to paradise meadow
feathery ferns brush bare
calves while cirrus clouds
skate on winds aloft
steep climb over bare rock pulls
thinning air into gasping lungs
the peak is reached
descent comes quick
a haze of warm spring colors blends
a wash of Monet-fashion indistinct
but calm the sparkling stream
a curved blue snake
curling in a lazy
doze at noonday heat
sliding closer down dirt-faced
cliff flowers separate
are recognixed trillium
poppies Queen Anne's lace
foxglove indian paintbrush
amid long grasses
weeds and reeds
in muddy streambanks
reaching paradise
we stop to breathe
in cool clear mountain air
sun sinks slowly
behold the mountain washed
like laundry God's red pajamas
bleeding on white bruises from an angel
wing the lavender of pain behold
the mountain cradling
paradise meadow
but not from human storm

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THE GARDEN

When dandelions and daisies push fragile
buds through rain-drenched crabgrass lawn
she pulls wicker porch furniture from a jumble
in the barn and sprays the dust away. Dampness
disappears in the heat of slanting afternoon rays while
she arranges all five pieces on a six foot square

of covered porch. She takes cushions--new this
season--with even stripes of pale blue on white
and places them just so. That done, she sets
to plant containers stacked on a wrougth iron
baker's rack angled in a corner. Because God
decreed, "All weeds are yellow," she chooses

blue lobelia, impatiens shaded in tones
of palest pink, melon, and blood red, purple
pansies, petunias with hot pink cotton candy
stripes, and redleaf coleus--for fun. She hangs
crystals on fishing line along the perimeter of porch
roof which cast refracted rainbows as the sun falls

low in the western sky. She follows a left-handed
way--a solitary walker, never at peace--while
lattice shadows drop across a plump white cat
stretched lazily on a floral patterned rug. A soft
breeze ruffles a skirt of yellow silk around her ankles
as she settles in her sanctuary, pen in hand.

A buttercup, she won't be torn away.

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LEFT ON THE BEACH

here the waves trip
spilling foam on sand and
a beached whale like a great black
dune gone crazy
looking for some lost
route a father took
or for some sound no longer there
we looked
but now we see only bone splinters
not like souvenirs for some
one who hasn't arrived yet and dream of a
bath where two can lie together in warm smooth
water like ocean
beer foam remnants
high tide in glass I lie
among the dunes
watch grass curve to wind a wave
about to break and listen for sound
I'm no longer sure is here

since you left the country has been closing
in this morning I found dead blossoms
piled on the porch among the grocery ads
and mail lay a note about the leather and
a bookmark from the wee book inn your truck
not here but no matter your leaving
has broken the road a driver cursed
passing the house I walked along that beach
where we discovered rock as night nudges
the window cramped by a dark blue
wall of sky behind it the moon presses
its face against bars of hemlock

I came to this park to lose
thoughts of you losing you
was easier today seemed right for it
scotch broom along the freeway
blinds with yellow glare I smell
the lilacs and the sun burns hot
knocking shadows to the ground
where they belong
I turn rocks over bellies
dark as clouds moving
overhead I press my face
into the blanket inhaling you
still caught by your spirit
while wild roses bloom

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SHATTERED

cool green touches fingertips
smooth-leafed ivy vine
twines through slats of window
blind invites a kiss with eyes

a shell of shadow
ridges against my skin
in cool white dream spell
waves link to curves conform

to touch a glacial pain of
fingerprints on ghost glass
world heart-shaped ivy
ivory leaf crystal bowl a rigid shell

or shadow dream curves
a link conformed to cool
waves along the ridge
more dark desire

kissed blind a man
surrounded tugged by tumbling
vine from crashing dark
foam-capped phantom

break the glass escape

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BROKEN GIRL

broken girl...always broken
never fixed repaired a facsimile of real
I tried to love...but never knew
how...unlovable...unreal...shattered
circles come around again...closing me in
trapped in some parallel world
alice through the glass.........pick up the glass
and drink......throw the life away
throw the girl...broken doll......smile
weakly through the tears
you loved me......loved me...and I could not trust
that love was real......unreal......undeserving
how could any love a broken girl
I kissed blind a man and made a promise...and
broken girl lied it away

tears fall from broken eyes......as you drive away
slide away......still holding my heart...grasp
in a hand tangled in my curls
I was wrong......I was broken......always broken
and not worth being loved......always throw
a broken doll...in the back of your closet

I rescue broken chairs......tables......people
and cannot repair......my self

my self......is a zero......nothing but broken parts
not beauty......not joy
only ugliness and pain......no second chances
ones who love do not forgive...ones who
love......walk away

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THE KISS

our kiss...the kiss of souls speaking
the scream of passionate fire
the whisper of love in flight

our kiss...you suck me into you
and I feel protected
and consumed...sheltered yet
exposed

our kiss...you push yourself into me
and hold me close...so close
we become one yet two ...those
words...tell me how you want
to melt into me...with a kiss

one kiss......our kiss......says everything

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