St. Paul

with soft soled scuffing down long halls
of ancient linoleum
over cracked and splitting lines
they stream past in soft pastels
with their disinfected smiles

I sit wringing my wrists
against the plastic placard in my hand
wondering if it will hurt this time
if it will work this time

the room is silent
sterile
they have moved it down the hall
but it is much the same
a table covered in white paper
as white as paper cranes
with stirrups that never ride anywhere
with my knees up in the air

I disrobe quietly as the nurse
busies herself with tubes and little vials
of treatment bought wholesale for times like this
I can hear the doctor in the authority of textbooks
speaking quickly in the back room
in a long diatribe of prescription and diagnosis
to a panel of white coats and greying hair

she leans over me
implements in hand
gentle smile in place
she tells me to scoot up a little closer
now breathe in
now breath out
just a little pinch
keep breathing

and its done
see that wasn't so bad
and it repeats
over and over again
day after week
week after month
maybe for the rest of my life

every time I walk down the cheerfully painted halls
covering up nearly a century of illness and habitied nuns
I pass the Pope staring at me,
with disapproving eyes
and a near-sneer upon his lips,
from his gilded golden frame
outside the wooden room
where I see the truly mournful
crouch over softly uttered prayers

as I make my way to the archaic creaking elevator
with a secret pain deeply hidden in my body
I fear not painful death like those humped over
the priest's soft words
spoken before uncomfortable chairs
and doubled-over bodies

I fear instead pain for endlessly stretching days
I fear this uncomfortable feeling between my legs
this uncomfortable walk through these sterile halls
I fear never letting someone enter me again
who doesn't have a needle in her hand
and a relenting worried smile on her face
I fear the day they tell me it will not get better

and once outside I let the wind take my hair
I let the pain settle inside me
I watch the trees sway to rust coloured bricks
and oblivious faces streaming past
the girl with unwashed hair
and pale ghost-like skin
just outside the hospital door
with a cigarette in her hand
huddled next to her I.V. tower
Cinderella coughing up bile in a blue robe

I turn from her
pull my collar close to my cheeks
allow myself to be swallowed by the moving throng
of glassy eyes
and bodies pretending at health
and I follow the wind home
with visions of immortal nuns in my head
with careful smiles upon their faces
and careful needles in their hands
forever floating before my open legs

The Thickening Wood

I ran through wet tree branches
and felt the recoiling sting shock me
back to my own disheveled mind.

With little droplets of sap in my hair
and deep red welts blooming on my skin
I ran, feet pounding against the needled floor.

I ran, even as the rain pelted me pink
against the dark green hands
reaching for me.

I ran, sloshed through the creek,
upon smooth coloured pebbles worn flat
and perfect for skipping.

I ran through tall grass, with the alfalfa in bloom,
scraping at my thighs;
little purple flowers caught up in my dress.

I ran and startled big black birds to air
a great rush of wings
past my ears, all frightened.

I slid down the hill once dust
now turned to mud in the rain,
splashing up my knees with wet dirt.

I pounded down the road, a muddy rut,
my breath coming in rattling gasps,
my legs aching fire sinking into the damp ground.

At the end of the trail,
I dove back into the thickening wood
as the sticker bushes clung to me, pulling me from my path.

The canopy closed over my head,
lushed green deepening the further I fled
into those flats of wild roses and bull pines stretching for the sky.

The black berries brambled in my way
and ripped at my skin with swaying thorns;
sweet juice staining the souls of my feet black; berries crushed under foot.

I ran, not once looking behind me but frantically sprinting faster;
I outran my slicked thoughts of you to the crumbling river bank,
and when I got there I dove straight in and let the flood waters pull me away.

Lips as Red as Blood

my thighs are slick in a rush of blood
crimson thickness is running down my legs
past my knees
pooling at my ankles

it's filling up my mouth
when I part my lips
I can only speak in burbles
and spit the ground all red

the dirt drinks me deep
filling up the cracks in the landscape
my femininity dripping
a trail of jeweled droplets to his door

he can never understand my comfort
in the drips left behind on the white tiles
as I slip from the kitchen to the bedroom
seeking lips to kiss only hard

he cringes in the face of the female rigor
that stiffens my belly
with unkempt want and forgetful desire
he does not understand what it means to bleed

to bleed with no blooming wound
to sit folded in on your self
with fingers tipped in blood
and eyes heavy in unfocused thought

the ground is thirsty for me
the moon tugging at my white dress
slowly turning crimson in the fading night
as he twists nervously at the door

he is goose stepping around my trail
gingerly picking his way to a clean spot
he quivers, 'I can feel the red tide of you slamming into me
even with my back turned'

I whisper through lips as vermilion as blood
'then never turn your back on me
and you will never have to know the nightmares
I have been saving especially for you
never turn your back on me
and I will not come howling for you in the night.'

I take my white dress and crimson flowers
blooming all over the room
and fly up to the ceiling
grasping only shining bloodied kisses

I leave trails of garnet on his face
I tug at his hair
I weave in and out and in again
dipping my red fingerprints down his back

and when the night cries in staining tears
the patches he is unable to bleach away
he will remember me all in white
and know what it is to be wanted in only a hard red way

The Wreck

I think I will set fire to this sinking ship
and see if it can burn in the rain
maybe a thousand tin sailors can swim
but I doubt it

with iron limbs
I am sure to sink to the bottom
where I can search for sharks
freezing in the deep
as the waves slam into my iron chest
and the ringing carries across the water

there is armor in my belly
and planks where my eyes should have been
I am going to build a raft
to drift further from shore
and see if I can set fire to it as well

with all these burning ships around me
the sea is illuminate
and the seals are dashing
to eat the hearts of drowning men
their pelts gleaming in the reflection of flames off the water

you could swallow pearls
that were once orbits in the center of your head
and find me down here
rusting in a bed of seaweed
under the bones of great iron ships

you should fear death by water
as I am a drowning sort
wearing a crown of little fish
and a cloak of octopus tentacles
with arms like nets
set to drag you down to me

you told me my kiss is like gasping for air
and I taste of salt water
well I would rather commit to something
than live a life dry
abandoned on some beach
as the ghosts wade out
to find my blood in the tide

I would prefer to drown completely
and make my home beneath the waves
in these caverns of dark and rotting wood
caught in the songs of passing whales
than to perform this drowning in increments
which you seem to cherish o' so very much

I Knew Right Then That You Would Break My Dirty Heart

And you might wake up tomorrow
with the strange taste of blood
in your throat

and you might wonder where the summer went.

You might wonder about the cold place next to you
and the strange perfume upon your pillows.

You might bury your head in your arms
and remember unusually cool skin on a sweltering night
curled against you
whispering something
that sounded like a dirty confession of love.

You might think you remember me
but I am just a dusty ghost
on your tongue
that you collected one warm night
from the trash cans in the alley
and I have gone home
with my dirty pitch black heart
to the clean white snows of Winter's hands
and the gentle caresses of Fall's windy tongue
to calm myself of your summery lies,
your heated hands
and your golden shining skin.

A Rust Coloured Season

when our skin met in the summer
you let your jitters get the best of you
laughing nervously in my ear

but your hands rested on my hips
as you followed my swaying rump
up the stairs
to a room that only existed outside
under a canopy of green needles
and sun dappled cheeks

I spent those summer nights
sitting nakedly on my deck
uncaring about my spying neighbors
drawing on my pipe
watching the smoke swirl into dim images
in the moonlight

I watched the deep green ivies creeping up the wall
listened to the little tippy tapping of the water
down smooth rocks
letting myself drift back to that white beach
watching the sun touch your skin with a deep brown
as I lay in the sand
and cursed the silence

the surf took my heart
and sent it to sea
on a boat built of drift wood
and floating seaweed
it is still drifting out there
bobbing up and down with the fishing birds
sitting on the tide
diving after
little fish swarming around the rocks
looking to nibble at your pink toes

our skin shining in the dripping wetness
as we stood on the beach and watched the sun set
listened to the waves lap at our souls
someone had to say something
but the words did not come
the silence grew up
and covered over my mouth
my tongue
wanting to gently touch your lips
stuck firmly inside my head
and sealed with the heat

the ocean called my name
as the moon rose
told me to go home
where I could dream of your arms
your trembling lips
your velvet skin under my fingers
in a haze of gentle drugs
and creativity set lose
on an unsuspecting world

Winter, My Lover

"Come home"
He says
"Come home"

Winter calls me Snow
and tells me to forget the Summer
He knows I have been collecting up my warm blood
into dazzling coloured glass bottles
and hanging them in the window

He takes my precious bottles of blood
and kisses them
until ice crystals like tiny ballerinas
dance against the glass
in a sea of red

The Winter calls me Snow
and I jump sending tiny droplets into air
He catches my hair in His fingers
and smiles

He leaves trails of ice
down my cheeks
with His trembling hands
kissing me
until I can see my warm breath vaporizing
into a cloud from my mouth
lingering on His lips

the Summer tortured me with
promises of sand and hot skinned lovers
the flies came to drink my sweat
the ocean boiled under the gaze of an indifferent Sun
and Summer stripped my clothing away
until my flesh fried
in the Sun-baked fields

the Summer carried on his long affair with that indifferent Sun
and hid the Moon
She wept softly dwarfed by the dazzling gaudy Sun
with Summer laughing his sticky laugh
turning my nights damp
and all too short
twisting under the sheets
slaking thirst in need of relief

Winter cried
"come home!
come home now!"
and opened His pale arms to me
He cradled the Moon to His eyes
gave Her a place back in the sky
He stretched the nights long
to cover me in His blanket of soft snows
whispering my dreams white
as He sang me to sleep

Winter called me Snow
queen to His white kingdom
with a crown of ice
and a crystaled heart
in His long nights
stretched at His bed
folded in His arms
bent to His Kiss
and lost to His blue blue eyes
I dreamed of the Fall that kept us apart
and the Spring that would only serve to part us again