Shoulder

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?

Lincoln Green

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

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The Dark Side

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

Where

I always made her wait
’til Thursday 
To cry

“That’ll teach you,” I commanded, 
“to feel, to wish and need.”

Someone, but not I
Might’ve offered mercy
But why

“The more tears, the more mess,” I understood.
“And further,” I’d chide, “you cannot permit pieces of who you are to escape and run free -there’s no one who’ll care to clean up after you.” 

Then she’d quiet down and stop expecting
She’d fall asleep, and dreamless be
She’d go. Goodbye. 

“If I could be bothered to wonder,” I thought aloud, 
“I’d ask where.”

Those Colors Again

Stairs 
Steps
Stacks of grand books
Her hands reaching out
Sometimes there’s someone to grab them

White
Brown
Body unclothed
Her tears crying out 
Never there’s anyone aware

Flying 
Soaring
Feet on the ground
Her mind reaching out
Always there’s nobody who’ll speak