opened

now the dam is broken

after years of tireless service

protecting natural waterways from more

than they should handle

according to someone's estimation.

now the river may run swift again,

may sometimes flood its banks,

and the dead and dry will rise up green

in lush and tameless life.

now the stream may sing once more

its trickle ripple song,

and the forgotten pond may be reborn

a silent, sacred refuge.

but I did not foresee the power

of too much too long held

when finally loosed.

all is uprooted,

overturned,

and churned

in the fury of this flood.

how long until the waters settle?

what will then remain?

some say I must have lost my mind.

I fear I may have found it.

tag-a-long

there is a cold dark in my chest
where once a fountain poured
forth fire, now a frozen...

    wait

    this is not my demon!

where'd you come from little fella?

here,

check his tag for a phone number.

(A favorite from the archives.)

negative space

I keep hidden
deep
beyond the bottom
of my heart,
in a place
that does not exist,
a singular Nothing,
the presence of which
no longer causes grief
or pain.
No sense of loss,
no suffering remain,
at least that you might notice,
but behind every thought,
between each breath,
I am keenly aware
of this hollowness,
this empty space

which is not there.


.
 

wounded

dark thread
taut and long
lifted high
knot then snip
press with gauze
again

close to my ear
he speaks in rhythm

the deeper tissue
pull 
will take more time
to fully heal
tug 

when the outer skin
has closed up nicely
(there will be a scar)
and appears completely
recovered
knot
for some time yet
the deepest part
can easily be torn
snip
reopened
gauze
requiring many months
more
to complete
the cycle of healing

pull 

tug 

yes
I nod

knot

snip

understanding
too well


~


(Participating in this week's One Shot Poetry Wednesday. Check it out.)

sentinel

sometimes she walks
along highway 41
walks like she's got no
particular place to be
what once made her strong
now just something heavy

usually she sits
on a bucket or an old
folding chair in the grass
her back straight
chin high
steel shot through
her frizzy hair
and stones in her mouth

but her eyes burn
always watching
just above the horizon
to the east

waiting hard

 
~