the glass jardancing with mary
was like keeping several
galaxies in a jar closed tight;
we took a peek for just
a moment and the image of
stars and nebulae were forever
imprinted on our retinas.
we liked to think
that if we turned off the lights
and looked inside we might find
meteors, fireflies, paper planes,
cranes, sheet music, teacups,
soggy books, broken hearts,
broken pianos, those fifty cents
i gave to that homeless man
last tuesday. we might find
a glimpse of our future, together
or not together. in love,
or not in love. we might be druggies,
or prostitutes, bus drivers, cancer
researchers, secretaries, teachers
(if i am a teacher i will corrupt
the minds of all children, i will
let them think with their hearts
and not their minds
and this will destroy them all) the glass jarin poetry
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yo howe are on a ship of fools,
bent toward self-destruction
(backs breaking, knees
trembling), carrying the world
on our shoulders like shrieking toddlers
(pudgy little hands
covering our faces,
smiles are all the rage)
we are sailing in a black,
black sea riddled with impossible creatures
things with mouths clamped
shut with age, grotesque eyes wild
with mania, webbed fingers, feet
scarred like a pirate's right hook.
i am the captain and
i am tossed overboard,
the captain is overboard,
all lost souls get left behind.
infinity is a really long time
(especially towards the end) yo hoin poetry
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i am thunder, hear me roar mother once told me
i am like a morning glory;
beautiful blue in the early hours
of the sun and shy purple in the
hot afternoon. she told me
i
am a blushing primrose,
hiding my face behind my leaves,
or a dancing daisy, lively beyond
all hours of the night. father,
on the other hand, tells me i
am
a tinkling flute, shimmering and
disappearing in the breeze, or perhaps
a rumbling sousaphone, loud and with
an in-your-face attitude, my huge mouth
open fo i am thunder, hear me roarin poetry
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as small as a world and as large as aloneit's always ourselves we find in the sea,
molly reminds me, eyes lingering on the cerulean ocean
stretching and sighing before us,
glowing vermillion in the setting sun.
we sit until the tide is sloshing at our feet,
threatening to carry us away on a dreamlike raft
of smooth turtle shells. we take cover, shrieking
like children, kicking up sand in a feeble attempt to
stop our pursuer from closing in on us.
laughing breathlessly, uncontrollably, hands pressed
against our chests and eyes beaming with unshed tears,
we are careening up and across sand dunes (though the tide
is far behind us) until our calves are wobbly strands of seaweed,
good for nothing except staggering to the ground in a heap
of merriment and seawater and titters.
we watch the pink shore swim back and forth, abandoning
sparkling treasures and washing away the evidence of our stay;
the cockeyed sandcastles, the deep holes we dug that no one stepped in
and our floundering footprints, all swept away
like tumbleweed as small as a world and as large as alonein poetry
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let's pretend this never happenedbecause honestly,
i don't know you and this was
just a big mistake, she says
very softly.
the morning sun peeks in
through the curtain as she pulls
on yesterday's shirt and i catch
my last glimpse of her thin
shoulder blades, protruding like
wings about to burst out of their
seams. she won't look at me.
the floor creaks with her weight
as she gathers her things. i've
already forgotten her eyes, wide
with wonder, and her lips, her
slender jawbone. i wish she
would turn around. i try to speak,
but words don't come.
her bare feet pad across the
room and she pauses in the doorway,
head turned to the side, as if listening,
perhaps to my heavy heart beating.
the set of her shoulders, hunched like
an eagle about to take flight, makes
me think she's going to break into a
thousand pieces, and i long to catch
them all and fix her. i long to know this girl,
this girl without a name who carries
herself like a hummingbird. i want to ask
her about the tattoo that runs along her
spine, quoting let's pretend this never happenedin poetry
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Sta.sh
