Rhetoric

In the middle of the sea
lies an island
(me)

My volcano became shy
stuttered, and ran dry
Overall I've settled in
and become less interesting

My sisters have eroded
or sunk beneath the water
An island with no chain is lonely indeed

I do still support life
In my own way I am green, lush
and unspoiled
The sky rolls and watches
The ocean laps against me

Perhaps no man is an island
But for women there are different notions

April 2011

The trees stand in perfect formation
Like battleships, tanks and planes
In this season they let loose their ammunition
	and leave us with the debris
Grasshoppers lay dead among the leaves
	they are civilian casualties
The bees have gone home in perfect synchronicity
	much like the foreign armies of the war
The skunk, he sleeps
	in his burrow, so deep
	it is a bomb shelter that
	will protect him from the fires
And the trees, the trees
	are abandoned
Bereft of leaves, they wait
	for the next war

Feb. 2011

The sisters Erato and Euterpe, and
	that cruel mistress Calliope
gathered together one fine day
to create a poem, or perhaps
	a song
for their sacred mother, Mnemosyne
	they worked hard and long
Until it emerged from their stained fingers
a verse so perfect it still lingers
in modern memory. Some say
and all agree, with secret smiles
there shall never be another of its like

I am staring down, down deep
	into the void
And the abyss stares back at me
She sees what she wants to see
And I can only see the deep nothingness
	of her eyes

I saw a magpie on a tree
hopping back and forth
	one, two, three
As if contemplating to go
	or stay
And before I could know
whether he would stay
	or go
A laugh drew me away

My mother is an accomplished crocheter and
Gran sews a magnificent stitch
Even my grandfather he,
	was in business, you see
His accomplishments are legendary
	in certain circles
As for me, I want to write
	and write well
But it is nothing because it won't make me
	a teacher or a nurse
(all bow down to the sacred white collar!)

I am sinking deep
And those eyes are staring

Cats must have quiet souls
They sleep all day and
lay like art upon the sofa
I saw a painting in the hall
of a woman who lay sprawled
luxuriously, on nothing
I claimed it changed my life
I lied
It was the cat

One, two, three
One, two, three
Stay or go
or further contemplate
One, two, three

Calliope
with her deep, dark gaze
is staring at me
While Erato and Euterpe
refuse to meet my eyes
They will not sympathize
For they have composed the master work
and in the face of that
	I am forever lacking

(and still I look into the abyss)

Feb. 2011

December 2010

June 2010

In college I knew Ryan
	I don't know him now
Before him there was Shannon
	who I never knew, and how!
It high school it was Sarah
	and others I forgot
In fourth grade I knew Megan, so
	now I know her not
And before here there were many
	who I never knew, or will
In first grade I met Brittany
	and I know her still

Happiness is a place I want to know

I never had imaginary friends
	(and yet we still played)
I made some real friends too
	but they rarely stayed
I don't like feeling poorly, and
I am no longer grieving, so
I forgave their leaving, still
They keep on deceiving, and
I keep on believing

Happiness is a place I want to remember

In my head I hear it low
The whisper of a song
From a time that's now behind
And oh, it's been so long
I know I should let go
To forget would not be wrong
I tell myself and still
It seems I'm hanging on

If happiness is a place, can I go?

When we were young the world bloomed
	she grew in gold and green
Now those tales are old
	and done
	and told
I remember what I've seen

This world, she claims I am full grown
And doomed with the adults
	to plan
	to tryst
	to walk in mist
	to love and lose and lull

I'm told a world long gone
	a world gone long
It is, it has been, it will be
	for me
And so with this I walk in mist
	to see what I may see

Happiness was in September

June 2010

April 2010

Together we
    we never see the things we should
And though not shy we both just lie
    we'd sooner die before we would
Admit to knots of creeping thoughts
    we never bought those lands
And so in bed I hold my head
    I could instead be reaching for your hands

July 2009

At fifteen I knew you.
But not at sixteen
   and now we are twenty-two.
And now it seems you
   are a simile of a person I knew.
And if now I ran into you
   I might say,
      "You remind me of someone I knew."
And that person would be you.
She would be the you I knew.

Nov. 2009

Calliope sits
	with her tablet on her thighs
	she cocks her head
	she hears our cries
	she smiles slyly
	and invites us with her eyes
	to try again

We have our paper and our pen
Our quill and ink and type
We have decided this is when
We will gird our loins and try again
To write

And we will write until we stiffen
We will write until we go blind
We will write until we are nocturnal
We will write until we petrify
We will lose our hope and then
We will try to write again

When we are no longer breathing
When we are six feet beneath
Our fingers, they will twitch
And we will yell our grief
Because we love that cold hard bitch
And even then
We will want a pen

And Calliope sits
	with her tablet on her thighs
	she cocks her head
	she hears our cries
	she smiles slyly
	and invites us with her eyes
	to try again

For Sarah, Feb. 2010