Some Days, Other Days

On some days I grasp the soil that dresses
the bed where my father’s bones have long slept
Tiny doors I knock on
Begging for a minute of comfort
An embrace, a word, a guide
I pour jugs of my emptiness through the spaces between the earth’s grains
but his ears have long hardened

On other days I long
to crawl back into Mother’s gentle womb
where the walls are safe and
the waters bind my heart with nourishment
and leave my burdens on her knowing shoulders
but the years have left her frail
her head grey, her heart strained
and the womb a home I’ve outgrown

So I keep my days as they are
longing and lone
swallowed into a hard hole
where my heart’s salvation’s no more

I sleep better

I sleep better in the dark
In the dark that blinds
The soot that tricks the eye
A sleep without sleep

The dark that sits
On a chair in the corner
Eager to listen
To the gush
And the slicing sound
Of a heart on the verge
Of cracking itself to death

To a heart inflamed
Bursting into itself
With things that burn
Crashing into its folds
A million times
Reciting its own pain

I sleep better
Without sleep
When weeping has a veil
When the screaming rolls
In silent volumes
Quiet thunders

Until the light licks the room
And I’m ready to mimic it
Into another day
Until I return
To the darkness
That has buried me
Over and over
And over

Lovers

There are lovers whose arms are

Mornings coated with gay songs,

The splendour of laughing colours,

Toasted slices clad in melting butters,

Trays crowded with cakes and creams

Extra sugars drowning in teacups,

Scents from the pores of blushing roses,

Glowing leaves of pregnant trees,

And pleasures riding the back of a fresh breeze.

Then other lovers, whose arms are

The shortest days and longest nights,

And foggy windows blurring the obvious.

Hands wearing gloves of the kind of frost

Too thick to rub the skin of a desperate lover,

Veins choking with solid rivers,

That never reach icy seas of a numb breast.

Mouths full of blizzards stuck between the teeth

Shivering kisses from the cracks of frigid lips.

There’s a snowstorm blasting through the door,

Lend a coat for my poor heart,

My lover must be home.