Penned Hopes

[2011] Pearls

gossamercy — Fri, 08 Jul 2011 22:10:17 +0000

did you notice my head
always tilts to the side?
as if I were a doll
with no structure, no spine?
and do you see
that my eyes do not?
do you hear how, inside me,
everything rots?

you say that you do,
yet still hold this hand,
and tell me that pearls
were born from rough sand.

[2011] Vines

gossamercy — Fri, 08 Jul 2011 22:08:58 +0000

sunlight almost always
manages to miss my heart
so it twists and churns
to reach the warmth —
so elusive, so far from here —

for a hint of the smiles
you shared with me,
for a taste of the mints
you placed in my hands
that cloudy day.

and my heart wrenches back
to reach the light,
forgetting its place in a
body that presses
onwards, away.

[2011] and the agony

gossamercy — Fri, 08 Jul 2011 22:07:40 +0000

Laughs need to percolate.
They should not simmer.

This is no joy,
just burn on my lips.

It does not scorch
like you would think.

But when I laugh,
my throat goes cold.

[2011] intensity

gossamercy — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 22:48:17 +0000

The low note of a saxophone,
brass melting in his hands
as she once did,
bows out to the sound of
a glassy-hued

Breaking: her voice
has found something
almost forgotten,
so from its chrysalis
unbound, pursues &
ascends.

[2011] flowers bloom from planted gems

gossamercy — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 22:46:59 +0000

Between the lion’s mane of peonies,
each line bleeds ink into pale petals,
full of think and wink and Lincoln copper
thoughts, those vaporous burns skimming
the fairest of your heartstrings.

The other day, crescent moon shimmering
in the morning blue, I found a few stragglers,
strands cast aside in your rushing.
The sound had slowed, beats hushed
as the singed ends frayed apart.

Cherry blossoms, like mad naiads,
pursued in spirals, with the mistaken idea
that you had noticed them, how
divinely they blushed this spring
when you passed us all by.

My hands trembled, but I held fast
these threads, softly coaxed petals
clinging shyly to my hair. I whispered
old poems into every braid, sending
them away for someone else to love.

[2011] space bar

gossamercy — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 22:45:08 +0000

Don’t ever let anyone use their dirty lies
to make a prison just this high and just this wide,
chafing and scraping the sides of your arms,
because all those bars they made
do absolutely nothing.

No one can trap the supernovas inside you,
expanding infinitely outwards at the speed of sight
you clutched tightly as a little girl of two
since a voice inside said “Just
wait a little more.”

So when you know the moment is now!
and your heart fights to shout, those stars will fall,
melting that iron into quicksilver pools
meant to splash under bare feet and
reflect your tilted grin.

[2011] As Far As We Could

gossamercy — Wed, 18 May 2011 02:35:59 +0000

Treading every edge
my eyes manage to find,
I push for unsteadiness
just to see if I can
bring it back into balance–
I am a Libra after all.

Maybe this time though,
I’ve gone a bit too far,
whispers ebbing out
the wax in the scars,
melting my strength
because I have hurt you.

I am sorry
that I have not the skill
nor the strength to mend
these fairy wings I broke.
Take yet another letter,
take just one more poem.

This hurts, this hurts
to acknowledge the small,
simple truth I always knew:
we have walked together
as far as we could.
From here, I alone step
onto the curb, and run.

[2011] Siblings at Breakfast

gossamercy — Wed, 18 May 2011 02:33:03 +0000

Sunlight drips sometimes,
slips into dewdrops
that cling to blades
of toddler grass
trying to grow up
before they grow old.
I realized just this
morning as my little
one tells me “sex
is a silly thing.”

Good morning.
Where are you
growing today?

[2011] Moon

gossamercy — Wed, 18 May 2011 02:31:39 +0000

Though I may be
farther from light,
colder than before &
dimming by the hour,

I will shine
with all I am
to be your moon
& guide you home.

[2011] Living in Sheets

gossamercy — Wed, 18 May 2011 02:30:29 +0000

When they set an assortment
of trinkets in front of me
meant to determine my future,
my parents expressed joy
when I picked up a
thin, black ink pen.

She’ll be a doctor,
writing prescriptions
to the sick and the needy,
they thought and hoped
for years and years…
the poor things.

I write off no help,
advice or medicine,
no psychotropic this
or cardiovascular that
to help anyone at all,
anyone but myself.