GirlOnWing

I asked you: "Do you feel sorry that we are alive, while so many are dead?" I did not mean that they had passed but had simply never lived and you understood, Answering: "Should we live in shame while lying here, washed up on this beach, overcome and panting, Limbs invigorated with passion, Bodies filled with smoldering coals? Should I avert my eyes even now, as I admire the white of your skin, So delicate in this sunlight that breaks in on us by degrees? And the grainy texture of this sand The taste of this salt, Made sweet as I kiss your brow, your cheeks, your lips– Should I regret the sensation of it all? Nay, we we

Something familiar. About you. About the past. About a winter's night. About a dream I can scarcely remember, involving a boy in an overcoat and a woman who smiled at me over the heads of her children. Something comforting. About the scent of strawberry shampoo. About the rain-soaked streets of New York City. About a lonely beach where the wind gave my poetry to the surf. About a fire that consumed it all in an act of desperation. About a girl. About a boy. Something. Something, again. But I am moving forward, bypassing the familiar, and the comforting a move to the vague- An Act of Renewal.

I woke at 3 this afternoon finally fully awake, aware that I was in love with you Love's luster had already stained my hands and I could not wriggle the thought of you free from my heated body I ran to the mirror to search for some surface change But there was none (Though I might have been speaking in softer tones) Ah, but what a relief! That I should have someone to bundle myself in Free to gaze into your patient eyes of whatever color they wish to be, alert and adoring, moving me in silence or speech and O, what joy! To be able to laugh at past infatuations which I believed would always limit me! Yes, for years I ha

I will be a free spirit And make my home among the leaves and branches,      the bones of the earth The wild things will be my friends They will name me          as they name themselves and call to me whenever I feel lost, tired or restless for something other than cityscape and news of another murder or bombing, while girls starve themselves, gossiping and selling their pride to hungry men I will slip away, sinking down into it all, to TOUCH something deeper than these streets I will be a free spirit, and love you a thousand times a day; Once when I wake or go to sleep and twice each time that you smile I will call y

One day you and I decided to Build a home, four walls to Contain our hearts and corral our dreams Made of straw and popsicle sticks, pieces glued together carefully. We feared eventually it would be blown away, yet we admired the delicacy and called it our own. Over time we grew flowers, Surrounded ourselves with sand and sea, An island that seemed so secret and permanent, Building sandcastles and wading in the surf. And we filled our home, filled her With candles, memories, music Kisses, rainy afternoons, seashells And tide pools Our bodies braided together, Our minds floating above us, Crying with ecstasy It seemed everl

Night has fallen and outside the cicadas deplore the darkness for falling in on them, whining insistently. I am in a house that is largely unfamiliar to me, having seen two blonde boys off to bed after a night of football and Barney. A bit weary from my job, I sink into the couch to eat a bowl of cereal and watch television. A folk singer performs on the screen, eyes closed as she plucks at her guitar, playing songs that are outstanding in my childhood memories. It is strange that in this house, void of reminiscences, I feel so nostalgic at this moment. As I yawn widely, I wonder if my charges have yet been graced with sleep.    As a child