Tonight, like all the others

Without an inch of light seeping
in through the blinds
not because they have been closed
though for days they have
no light to be seeped
no light to be stolen
alone in the dark in the heat

I slip into
tortured dreams and
     awake
with blood on my pillow

Waiting

The Cliff

A dark cliff hangs sharply against

white sky, floating

clouds invisible to weary

aching eyes

My body on the

edge; a kite catching every

thought. My toes hang over, my

heels dig deep

daring

the wind to make

one final

fatal       

sweep

You throw me down

a rope

from your perch above; you

have watched me sway and

decided, a modern muse

that today is not my day.

Summer Storm

The storm has
passed but the flood
waters remain
swirling imperceptibly
towards an invisible drain

I don't know where they are
going or from whence they came
but I can feel it draining slowly

until nothing remains

Because I Won

I won

The bus doors creak as they swallow us up

like a big tin of sardines

with the sharp turn on the lid after Rachel has snuck one before dinner

we have sardines sometimes

Momma says it’s because she likes them

But she doesn’t like them and I think it’s because we are poor

like

Marbles against a wooden box,

rolling around in there and shaking

hitting the sides and tumbling across the grain

I have to sit at the back of the bus where the seats are hard and made of the oldest vinyl in Grant county

Papa says its cuz we dark, darker than the cold shadows behind the shed where we sit in August

Sometimes he says its because the white people are mean

the white people who sit at the front of the bus, with so much space between them

there is only room for thick thick pride, pride that you

gotta walk through to get to the back, pride that you

brush off your clothes and cough out as you pass

but I don’t believe him because I

have a friend who is white girl and she always wear cotton dresses to school

blue cotton and cotton she calls sea foam green

and the way she laughs when she says sea foam green as if she expects me not to know what it is

but I know because I asked my momma one day and she said it’s the color of our refrigerator

the cold aluminum sides the same as her soft cotton dresses

with their ruffles and collars and bits of lace

I know what lace is too

and she is the nicest girl in school because she told me once I could have a drink from her fountain and she wouldn’t tell no one and then she ran off and her laugh tinkled out and bounced off the playground walls

and someday, someday I am gonna marry her

Papa says it is a bit too early for that

seens how we are only eight years old and we don’t know

what marriage is anyhow

But I know I am gonna

Marry that girl because I won the biggest marble

last week from Tommy Swinton

I won the biggest marble

from Tommy Swinton and he said I couldn’t do it and they let me in their circle just so they could laugh at me, he said, and they did laugh, like angry dogs who haven’t been fed but I won it

And I am the new King at marbles

And no one can tell me no, now

The Poppy Seed

The poppy seed that sat atop

a ripe and golden muffin

Amid sprinkles of other friendly poppy seeds

neatly tucked into the brown sugar crumbles

The poppy seed so black it shone purple

Purple like the bruise your brother gave to you in sixth grade when nothing was good

and purple like your favorite lipstick during that time when you thought everything black was cool

and purple like the big black box they carried your mother away in when nothing was ever the same

The poppy seed was small

small like the paychecks you live off of, feeding you day by day

small like the girl next door who always seems to have a party going on

small like the mistake you made that one time that cost you all the other times to repay

The poppy seed sat atop a hill

A golden hill of sweet memories and

Surrounded by other friendly poppy seeds

poppy seeds who thought the one on top was the coolest

because in the horrible heat of the oven he rose to the top

But the poppy seed on top of the muffin

Fell onto the ground

Just a poppy seed

Black as the brown dirt that speckled the grey floor

smaller than the marble the cat is playing with

just a poppy seed

and never any more

Caught Bouquet

Red stain on a virgins lip

bleeding in from gilded tip.

A tomato forgotten on the vine,

Deep hue of blood;

Seared in by sunlight’s

            Warmth

Soft petals edge

Light shining white,

reflecting soft satin.

Flowing from her waist as a

perfect pour of thickest milk

Pitcher to hip

Lip to floor

A robust bloom,

full as a porcelain bowl.

Young bridegroom’s eyes

Green of aspen leaves

Sunshine and shadow green

green of apples skin and

mossy glen, seat for

            many

stems. Thick and

strong—upholding.

Buds of white

Crisp cotton on the line

Springs bubbling blue

lilting on transparency.

Breathing sugared air with the roses

Petals dreamt of

before their sprout.

Young bride

New wife

Blooming scent of love’s

New life.