Lady-speak

Call her unkind, the Collie

Barking at the neighbor lady painting her garage in her pajamas

But, may I translate?

“You there, Sis,” (it’s how the cool girls talk)

“Good morning, and for God’s sake, how long’s it been? How many seasons, since you thought to come out here and throw some color around? Those Days you were gone didn’t deserve you…paintbrush and passion put away.”

Given the dog’s sixth/sense, she knew what the lady’d replied, “un-aloud.”

“First of all, it has been cold, and my hands were shaking. And, countenance and confidence shattered, how could I breathe, much less beautify?”

“And secondly…?” The pooch -amused- persisted.

“Secondly,” the artist offered, “those Days that did not deserve me? Like rungs of a ladder, under my feet they are now. Nevertheless, here am I, despite the cold. Good day, Collie.”

Walking away, back to shade’s solace, the canine’s congratulatory caution, “What, with your whimsy and will, and wonder and wit, the cold may try steal you the morrow.”

Bona Fide

All I ask of authenticity, as I swirl it across my palette
Simply this: Stop tasting as nostalgia might

Some genteel trip down memory lane
A life my children cannot revel in having once lived

Become balanced again, more perfect in this place
Tannins, stripped away

Smooth-sweetness, shine through
Impress me

Dame

This eye in the sky watching
Always cheering
Chasing
Some beauty it never plans to catch
Smiles, therefore
Without any hesitancy and evidence
Of braces or trammels of old
You’ll see

Good Guy

Ode to the bastard, or the cunning, if you will

Blame the constructively or actually absent father, the sons-of-empathyless-bitches must

And blame you too

You were late with their meal, or delivered it differently than what they’d had in mind but hadn’t shared aloud

Or had shared aloud, then in silent switched

Oh, heart-breaker, home-wrecker, save…SAVE your own life

Sell this soul as your own

Permission to abandon ship, grant thyself

Empty arms now jocular and free

Original Thought Credit: “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should’ve behaved better.” -Anne Lamott

Freediver

Do I want your drink of water
Quenching my hard-earned oddities
Drowning the flame and heat of me
Dampening the hue of my hair
And this heart

Do I want your white-washing
Pretending away this good graffiti
Covering evidence of my depth
Ameliorating (ha!) my helping you see
Different is beautiful, too

Do I?

soliloquy

Sacred space, take me back
Spare me from such wav’ring souls

Protected, I, despite the spears
Higher there than daggers after me

Nested
Sunlit

Hardwood floors, art-deco skies
Resonate my clicking heels

Close these eyes to all I wish
Airy space, take me back