Unlocked.
I put my teeth over a previous imprint
to see if would feel like home.
It didn’t, but I think it’s because
I don’t have words like “comfort” or “home”
any place accessible to my psyche.
I’m a visitor, pushing light through
a tube, aiming to make sense
of numbers when I can only spell
using music. It tastes like magic
when it rains, despite poor reception.
The wind kept me awake
almost the whole night.
I tried breathing exercises
and fantasizing about
the forbidden,
but my heart raced and raced
until my eyelids were pulsing
and the stars spun like
a disco ball in the night sky.
I’m only sorry
I forgot to ask the moon
for a dance.
Our purpose seems
to be sliding along waves
plump with color and music
and other information;
bumping into each other
is thrilling- so much better
when we let go.
I think backwards
and see my journey
for the mixed-up tracery
of those who were chosen
for great things.
My mistakes
involve aiming low,
sinking lower,
and it’s a fine recipe
that leaves me
smooth and creamy
in the face of cruelty.
We set sail
at the edge of a meadow,
fragile stalks belying
the lush promise
we weren’t meant to know.
It spoke. Out loud.
Something in the way light hit
the dark scroll made me shiver.
I turned the page this way and that.
It was like holding an island
full of my judges. They were a stern bunch.
Memories assailed me as I watched the shapes move…
Being golden. Being invisible.
Hiding in a pocket (he saved me for later).
Glowing. Floating.
Soaking in every spice (with reckless abandon).
I wouldn’t change today- though it hurts.
I’d probably bleed more if I could.
There’s more… but I’m being interrupted.
“Have you no shame?!” the poem screams at me.
No. No, I really don’t.
The Word Rummager 