see this
curving teak
bowl,
brown as whole wheat toast,
handcrafted, fair-traded,
all smooth and concave
tiny droplets of water glistening within,
not from the yellow mangoes,
over-ripe,
waiting to liquify;
the bowl is weeping,
forgotten,
useless as rotting fruit,
wishing to return
to the tree,
wondering why
she has been forsaken
here, on a blue-tiled counter,
with only fruit flies
to whisper
stories of home
1SageFemme All Rights Reserved 2017
one spring day,
not this one,
i took sweet Charlie to the vet
for the last time;
a small thing
we all do,
eventually,
she was special,
my Charlie,
who arrived to a Bad Marriage
and was Love incarnate,
letting toddlers pull her lips
and try to ride her…
so loved we got a second dog,
her younger sister…
running away in her older years
because she was deaf
and my voice no longer
penetrated her obsession
with food,
and then,
then…
old, and sick,
she was caught in the middle
of The End,
a marriage marinated in alcohol
battles for custody
manipulations grand and microscopic
and one little dog,
rheumy-eyed and stinking,
slowly dying,
until that day,
four-year-old crying
“mama kicks Charlie”
the usual denials,
the lack of proof,
my heart,
shattered,
i remembered all the times
in denial,
i had heard X muttering drunkenly
in the kitchen,
“i hate these damn dogs”
Charlie, as ever,
underfoot when food was at hand,
Charlie’s sister died of cancer;
a long process
of peeing blood and incontinence
doggy diapers
specialist visits
iv’s and needle aspirations
painful and, in the end
for nothing,
then, one year later,
in the middle of a war zone
Charlie started peeing blood
she became incontinent
“mama kicks Charlie,”
a small voice telling
a big truth,
when my week came
i took my little boys in my arms
and told them Charlie was sick
and soon would go to see her sister
they cried
they accepted
as children do,
i split my heart in two
one half strong and capable,
taking my sweet Charlie one last time
to the park,
the other half climbing a high tower
in an unfamiliar castle,
searching for a way
to survive,
i found a homing pigeon,
waiting atop the tower,
head cocked in perpetual question,
eye blinking at me
i had never sent a message
by pigeon,
but this pigeon seemed capable enough
so i pulled a red crayon from my pocket
and drew half a heart
on a bit of gum wrapper,
rolled it into a tiny scroll,
and placed it on the castle wall,
the pigeon took my burden
and spoke to me,
which also did not seem strange,
“i will find you in the future,
and bring your message home”
with the relief of feeling only half the pain,
Charlie and i made the final journey
where i dropped her off at the door
and did not accompany her
just a quick kiss,
and “see you later my little love,”
knowing i would not,
time passed
the divorce was finalized
life moved on
became more stable
the kids became happier,
and by some miracle
i found love,
perhaps it is five years to the day
but my mind won’t remember it
so i couldn’t say for sure
but last night,
i awoke to the sound of tapping,
and there was the pigeon,
head cocked,
waiting at my window,
she had come home to roost
bearing my broken heart
across time,
writ in crayon
on old gum wrapper
precious only to me,
i took the message in shaking hands
and cried,
feeling the full weight of guilt
and regret,
why had i not gone with Charlie,
to the end?
i understood at last
that survival sometimes requires
imperfect solutions;
Charlie, stoic as she was,
would forgive me,
and at some point,
soon,
i will forgive myself.
1SageFemme All Rights Reserved 2017
do you feel the ticking?
time bomb in chest
egg timer clicking down
seconds to detonation
never exploding
just tic tic ticking
anticipating something
but what?
can’t think
brain muddled and,
anyway,
it’s too hard to know
what future to hope for
so breathe so breathe
the only sign
that little flicking
of the fingers
1SageFemme All Rights Reserved 2017
i yearn to carve
silence
into subjugation,
stretch skin over bone
drum beat truth
from the dark,
name it
art
but these lips
they don’t speak
so they’ll
sing you a song,
full bodied
raw
’til i’m done
i buried
pain in the back yard
except the bits i flushed
with the goldfish
even now
hard to
admit
shame coils
serpents
at my feet
now i am
a snake charmer…
come shame,
dance me
poetry
hum me
worthy
shame sticks
to skin
stings the eyes
tar and chlorine
if i were feathered
i could fly
away
1SageFemme All Rights Reserved 2017
i am apocalyptic
dreaming
hospital green corridors
(always hospitals in nightmares)
why are women so bitchy?
not all women, sure,
but so many
eating each other
not joyfully,
but
“who put raisins in this?”
sour-faced
the humid, claustrophobic
march
left, right,
no exit because this is
a goddamn
victorian hospital
might as well be
daedalus’s labyrinth
and ariadne won’t share
her thread
with the competition
i am screaming now
not fear
rage
fucking ariadne
how lost we are
i see you
i see you
give me your hand
just this once
and we will all be free
no need to slay the minotaur
after all
1SageFemme All Rights Reserve 2017
back to the secret spot
wind on face
whipping tears and mascara
into horizontal
fault lines
no use, sunglasses
inadequate to shield,
huge hipster frames,
screaming
“absurd!”
in this secret place,
she hugs herself
against the coming storm
back to tree
face to sea
watching stripes of rain on the horizon
the salty smell
seaweed and dead fish
wet dog shaking
gull crying
she knows something is about to happen
but, as always, her vision
is impaired
heart pounds
breath comes ragged and choked
sensing,
but not
grasping meaning
until only hazy memory
remains
1SageFemme All Rights Reserved 2017
they hiked to a secret place,
if you can call a forest pool
known to all the kids in town
“secret,”
in the fleeting heat of summer
the still, deep pool appeared
unexpectedly
amid rapids and gnarling
forest branches
creatively dubbed
“hot rocks”
for obvious reasons
some generations before
it was a lazy summer sport,
hiking with beer
throwing down wet bodies
onto hot rocks
or each other
jumping into the frigid water,
laughter and screams through the quiet rainforest
until Jesse jumped
diabetic Jesse who was drunk
like the rest of them
and his mortal, adolescent heart
just stopped
searing this memory
ever after
of CPR and sweat
and the twins screaming
Jesse Jesse Jesse
there were no cell phones then
only miles to run hauling
ghost Jesse
to the beat-up pickup
and then the loss
of time
fast forward to
Sophie dressed in black
without crying,
reading poetry
for Jesse
her first love
not knowing how my heart broke
for her,
my own first love,
how I had always wished
to be Jesse
1SageFemme 2017 All Rights Reserved
hours
time
yawned and
g a p e d
swallowed lives
easy as inhaling
fingers frozen into
question marks
thoughts
sssluggishhh
she felt
her face knew the act
recite,
react
nod and smile
an automaton
murmuring reassurance
singing lullabies
forever and forever
calling into the wind
“come”
she hid the
of her soul
until whispers
penetrated…
her malaise
exhaling,
she blinked,
her image
resolving,
solidifying
once more.
1SageFemme All Rights Reserved 2017
not lost, buried
behind a supermarket in the suburbs
shed like skin
trodden
into
crevasses searching
for signs of life
lying awake, in the dark
listening to the beating heart of life
waiting for the call
of sun and sparrow
when tendrils burst
from sidewalks and parking lots
shattered hope
scattered earthward
waits out winter
waits
and watches
not lost,
only buried
awaken now,
as green and gold reprimand
strong as love
and dandelions
to turn away
this
false
winter
1SageFemme All Rights Reserved 2016
Trapped in perpetual irritation
Fleeting thoughts fuel anxious
Adrenalin soaked nightmares
Lost children, slow-motion escapes,
Dead-end alleys, dark
And darker
Triggers
The mind dances nightly
Lurching and halting into dawn
Unable to form the write
Sentence
Structure
Damnit,
Theories scratch the cortex
Nano-particles racing to surround
And smooth,
A nacreous encapsulation
Turning ugly memory
Iridescent
I am full of pearls now,
Choking instead of speaking
Slowly turning to stone…
1Sagefemme All Rights Reserved 2016
Of maidens, mothers, and crones; a life in poetry, unfinished 