
Used To Be

I plan to lament, to pity-party, to languish-unapologetic-like, the daylong, in regret and angst.
When dawn of some new era calls, I’ll hear it’s hearken, I’ll know it’s finally time I arise from the rain and fog.
‘Til that day, you’re cursed, Mountain, you’re soul-sold, Hollow, you’re a kind woman’s Relic and Shame.
This pre-war, post-war frame
Quaint summer garden
Exposed brick and beam
Uneven maple plank throughout
All hard as nails, I promise
Will never cry so hard as I
On this kitchen floor
It’s just my shoulder
There’s nothing inherently beautiful or strong, tempting or freeing
Cool or calm about it, is there?
It’s just an offer
There’re billions of others to stand square with, befriend or lean on
Swoon over or serve with, aren’t there?
Why if we scream
Are we questioned
Our sanity
Our faithfulness
Our allegiance with true patriots
What of war cries
Of the war crimes
Our eyes opened
Our sleeves rolled-up
Our feet planted where lies cannot stand
When Good returns
To the Empire
Who’ll be kneeling
Who’ll be weeping
Who’ll be seeing that they have no clothes
I cried, how dare I!
I cried over cat food today
How it covered
Her nose and eyelashes
My hands and my vision
How it lingered
The way snowflakes might stay
Were we not dark princesses
Standing at the sink twice today
Cleaning her face and my heart
Hoping that tears and time
Will somehow free us
From the stench
From the mess and disaster
Of our love