I think I’ve never heard that said so
loudly, boldly, heavily.
Old words are new - none of the other
variegated moments of my life
eclipse old words-cum-new words,
you now the first from the bottom.
O, love, your new old words
Undo my fear, my hesitation, my memory.
Posts under ‘poeTRY’
I’m so in love, I make it acrostic
Ready when you are
Perhaps
I should
be maybe
tentative.
But when does wearing
my heart on my sleeve,
open and oozing each
zipping infatuated thought,
a self-inflicted wound
to some extent,
get realized
as merely who I am,
how I love,
and what I will do
as long as you let me?
I’ll let Maya Angelou speak for me
I’ve had these two Maya Angelou poems in my head for the longest time, and now that I’m home where all my books are, I finally got to look them up. Guess why I’m sharing.
Lost in the snow
You say “…but also…” in the raspy, halting voice of disclosure, but it sounds like nails on a chalkboard.
Familiar forecast
Clouds hang heavy,
sagging low like teats -
rain is set to spill.
The clean, unfamiliar
smell a friendly warning,
the way you sigh, roused
before the shrill cry
of the alarm, the way
my mother would wake me.
Misplaced words
I lost my words
somewhere
here.
They may be
buried in a
glistening pile of snow
or folded up, tattered
in my down coat pocket.
Has it died or merely shed its leaves?
I hear a tremor in your voice.
Are we bound for regeneration?
And if we are, will it be as one?
Or shall I grow alone,
smaller independently,
but just as alive, hardy?
This person vs. you
“You fondle my trigger, then you blame my gun.”
-Fiona Apple
X and Y
I met a man last week who reminded me of another man I know.
It was the way this new man called a woman his “paramour,” an occasional gesture, the earnest gaze as he listened and responded to me, our conversation like an assembly line making meaning.
