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i never saw anything like this,
ships sailing never noticed
fingers playing upon the waves near the shore
running down the scale as the foam is breaking in a line to the right
black jacket, black night, hair fright
belly of a train, holding to the frame
seashells and starfish pushing under
i am drawing the line, drawing the line right down your back
jellyfish don't scare me unless they're in my bed
or escaped to my tub
i am pulling on the white sheet
tucked in so neatly at all four corners
at a diagonal, it slips out easily and twists as i turn
leaving you to decide upon the line
which side is your side? the left or the right?
concave vase narrowing as a "v"
one day meeting we will be jumping
untying every lovers knot, every tangled necklace
caught up in the chains of gold and silver
breaking them apart as sampson bent the pillars
mary was kissing angels
i was breeding contempt and wiping their tears away
sleeping on the st. andrews cross
breaking my back, stretching my bones to fit this
cut me down with the sharp edge of a shell
liberty for every breath caught like a firefly
imprisoned in the glass jar
light extinguished after display, splayed upon the
st. andrews cross, looking down on those
praying for salvation while the snake slithered
from the pole, and is taken up by a belly dancer
into the collar of an oxford shirt offering no
comfort, safe with the charmer by his side
hiding the cure, bitten, dying, unable to
look down any longer but finding nothing left that is
high enough, no standard or flag of absolution
waves so high, and going in, with fingers tapping
jumping we are going to jump through every tide
while others stand on the shore
send the cross sailing to those who drifted too far
we have no need of obligation and suffering
mary is kissing the angels
ciao and bonjour and hello
i am kissing one who was diving beneath the surf into the sand
retrieving the starfish and the seashells
setting them on the cliff
orange, red, and purple
trees rise from the sea like volcanos, like the vase
rising from the table
my hands fit around the trunk and i cling
to you instead, even when you are always moving
changing form, and disappearing beneath the tide
from time to time
you are not my rock nor my tree nor my gibraltar
you are my floatie, with the seahorse head
cross has washed upon the shore and we are still playing
jumping with each wave, laughing
while the snake has slithered away to the top of the water tree
in the winter, leaves will fall and someone will see
their sign
challenge me...how long can you hold your breath?
i am pulling you under by your feet
we are going to the deep
*******************************************************

cheerios. a bowl of cheerios every morning
one eating so fast
i found my red lipstick on the bed
with pillows against the headboard
someone lying in place with my lipstick in their hand
while someone else has my sweater and another took my shirt
one even wanted my worn shoes!
i wonder where my locks of hair went
while i was sleeping
i am counting my underwear every week
they are disappearing like socks in the dryer
i was meant to be a spy and instead i am...
a relic?
don't pull my arms and legs off of me yet, i need them
for wrapping around the necks of my enemies
i'm quite certain my workshirts, besides,
were stolen like priceless works of art
to be displayed one day at the smithsonian
oh. or the hard rock cafe.
everybody wants a piece of me.
one has my medical records, quite the prize!
another took my tire, for their flower garden
while yet one more stole my songs
i am flattered, really. it is a compliment
when all the blonds dye their hair red
when my entire life history and family background
is asked of me with shovels and archeological tools in their hands
i should take it as a compliment that my clothing
and make up should disappear so often
a sign that i must have extraordinary good taste
that my skin color is coveted.
or something. ?
i wonder who made a window prism out of the glass
broken from the windshield of my last four cars
did anyone lick the knife after plunging it into my tires?
one man really wanted my cd where i was the background singer
took nothing but this. broke down a door for my cd.
someone wanted my last three coats they broke into
my car and apartment just to wear the coats of many colors
the nigerian woman who karate chopped my back
dragged her nails down for a skin sample
lovers pull my hair for a strand of DNA
*********************************************************************

my lover would not give me away
would not turn me over to others
my lover would not read my diary and play
the chords which were familiar. would not
watch me out of the corner of his eye
while kissing another, arms about her
chasing down the sidewalk, holding hands
as i am carrying his evil twins
fickle as a feather in the wind
switching back and forth like a whip
playing upon signs and memories
books and poems i knew, quoting from them
with me, in unison, making quips and inside
remarks. taking me in, tossing me out,
taking me in at the sign of a card from
an israeli opera singer
my lover would not trade me for his position
for the opinions of others
or feel defeated if some didn't care for me
wouldn't know me outside and then
work his way inside of me
knowing who i was, knowing i had no clue
taking information he had on me
for personal and private gain at will
getting approval from his handler
to screw me over however he saw fit
to make love with me saying i love you
when i thought maybe i had an std
willing to die with me that way
to spill into me, i loved him for
that he would die with me if it was my fate
wasn't able to withstand the pressure
took the awards and stole my heart
there every day for a half hour before he
had to work, watching me with those eyes
speaking to me every afternoon
preferring what his handlers and friends
preferred, what was safe and predictable
nothing left of the jesus he prayed to once
nothing left of the grace
just happy to have a reason not to leave
for chicago, the positive stick
not even unhappy and then nothing
after december. deciding without any ties
free to disappear and fade into nothing
leaving me on the end, crying
alone to be abused and suffer at the hands
of incompetent medical professionals
i realized i loved him and then the next day
i realized who he was. the identity he'd
been hiding from me for the sake of the FBI
the same agency that obstructed justice
that conspired against me, and attempted to
intimidate a victim and call me crazy
then having their fun and their game
enjoying the mystery and the wonder that i
was stepping out with their man and i didn't
even know. getting their fill, their entertainment
amusement at my expense. standing back and
fading into the distance when i was alone and suffering
leaving me to nothing as i remember will is bragging
at least HE has a job (more than one it turns out)
other workers crying over my misfortune
do you read frost? and dickinson?
quoting verses with me, and watching me recite
scripture verses with a knowing look
one of my infamous backrubs
he was another one in the hole
i cried over romeo and juliet by indigo girls
knew impact was upon me and not knowing
what was hitting
a knife in my heart i sobbed when i was first
with this arranged marriage from colombia man
sobbed every time. i think i love him but i
didn't know. why am i so sad? if it isn't love?
why do i worry? why do i feel he needs me and i
need him
he needed me for his own purposes for his own
timeframe. i realize now, he never stepped up
or was brave enough to take me on and admit
what he felt and so i will destroy it
with what poison he handed me
in the beginning, without antedote.
when the knife only makes you bleed
poison will finish the job
taking my lover's remedy for complications
for his deceit and he has never said sorry
under orders, under direction of his
superiors, who try to placate me with
a phony illusion of allure, mystery, destiny, and romance
knowing all along that they are guilty
for tearing my clothes from me
pulling off my gloves
leaving me to wander, telling me to take a bus home
to be diagnosed with an illness
i loved and i lost but he lost more
there is little room for a bracelet
it's become stretched and loose
meant to fit a fatter arm
a larger woman with larger breasts
who will suckle the boy
through the grapes of wrath*
****************************************

i am in a locket, my photo
i am not in love. i am loved and hated.
i have but one desire and it is to be free
of those who use me for their own interests
to protect myself, and my son
from usury. to live and let live.
i will him to live and to defeat death
fighting for one chance on the other side
of this life. a new bell tolling, another
bridge, and a rainbow of triumph
not as a sign at eulogy
fuck me and love me by living past me
beyond my years...if you ever loved me
then fight me and live and be happy
fuck the cappulets. they are nothing to you
you are better than they. give them hell.