Poetry

Winded

Life can wind you even when you’re already struggling to breathe.

A sour taint that has you reaching for the super glue

to try and stick yourself back together,

though at first you hesitate, the thought that this is your fault

and not just something that’s been hiding in secret for a long time

waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike

staying your hand.

 

But the breath you’re seeking will return¬†and fill your lungs to full capacity

with fresh, clean air

and not the toxic fumes you’ve been inhaling for so long.

Your beaten self will revive and flourish

in ways you never knew it could.

You just need time.

Poetry

Fairy dance

Do you remember the dancing fairies

from Fantasia? 

The ice skating ones, who carve all those lacy designs

on the pond with their toes?

Yes, those ones. Think we could ever

do something like that? Map out our life

on frozen water?

Maybe not on frozen water.

Why not?

Because it’s so still, but life never is.

Oh, I hadn’t thought about that.

Well, now you have.

 

Poetry

Hardback

I ease into the spine,

careful not to rip or tear,

hearing that new page sound;

a spreading of toes

preparing to feel the ground

in case it tries to slip away

from me.

A deep inhale

before setting the fingers to work,

elegantly stretching from right

to left

as eyes blur left

to right.

Strength flows up my arms

congealing in my head.

The saliva on my tongue

tastes

of salt;

bittersweet meetings,

conversations left unsaid

where

there was so much to say.

I arch upwards,

clearing away the tide

that fills my lungs,

exhaling

the raw.

I step back to mountain;

the cover shuts.

My body tingles

with satisfaction.

My mind

is famished.