Katy Bird

I was dragging a California King

Through the door

Where you used to live

I was wandering your hallways

I was in your room

It was empty

Without you

Empty Save the mirror

Broken shards

Disjointed and mounted

Haphazardly throwing

Reflections of green eyes

About the room

There were many of them

But none were the ones I wanted.

Fa.la.la.la.la

This evening

I went alone to a film.

Paid too much.

Didn't mind.

I enjoyed myself

On the way out

There was cluster of people

A family I presume

They were bundled in cloaks

Wrapped in scarves

And wrapped around each other

Beneath the humming glow of arc-sodium

In a bleak and dark parking lot

They embraced

Their joy glowed

Five entwined souls

Their love like fire

Beneath the same stars

I walked back to Lilly

Alone.

After the Fall

October was swirls of turmoil

beleaguered brush strokes of a bleak mind.

We dropped like leaves

floating

alone and desperate.

The weight of the clouds proving to onerous

to bear.

Walking down empty streets in swirling wind afternoons.

Just me and my shame.

Autumn leaves like fires on lawns.

I want to roll in flames.

I want to hold your hand

as my nose runs and my cheeks burn

I want to break through cold soil and lay down the roots I never had.

Sometimes

They put flagpoles up at the park.
Vast streamers at their apex.
Dancing colors in the wind.

And the wind here never stops.

They make a tableaux for the coming humanity.
Waves of families, and children
and lovers hand in hand.

Beneath sunshine and moonrise,
upon soft earth
and softer grass.

It will be, for a time,
and despite,
the cries of babes
and oppression of heat,
a place of temporary magic.
A place to slip
into shade
and find the lips
of someone you love.

I can see it all
and will see it all
from the window
of a moving automobile
as I go for groceries
or movies
or some other errand.

And I will be thankful,
with all my heart
for all I have
and all I have learned.

But sometimes,
Just sometimes
I really wish
I had a hand to hold.

August

Your crown's a flame.

A head on fire
O'er pale baby skin.

I lean back,
to see
the colors changing
in your eyes.

Silver inlaid with chestnut.

Lighting a world before your gaze.
As shadows pass upon
a tiny face.

I watch your head bob
a dance with no rhythm
with reaching limbs akimbo.

Sing a song of beaten seas
to see a smile
of brand new teeth.

They are few
these precious days
of
August
in
first bloom.

They pass
like water falling
on rock.
Floating
on air,
warm
and
light
from
a
newly
born
world.

Carr

It torments me still.

How you

are not here

anymore.

Feels like air

sucked out

of lungs.

Like being

socked,

as if

by

brick

to

face.

How I am.......

still here.

And you found your way into there.

A trapdoor in that garage.

A hidden exit at the bottom

of that noose.

and it kills me.

I feel

I can see

things

I never witnessed;

yet can not bear.

The face on your mother

when she found you.

Swinging.

My own tattered sobs

pouring tears

that

would not stop.

Viewed

(as if)

from above

(and)

amidst

the familiar faces,

in a familiar church,

darkened

by that old,

familiar derision.

I longed to burn them then.

Set them aflame.

Watch them dance

till their last breath

spilled out

of their ugly mouths

in a final

scream.

Today

I pray

I would want that

no more.

Not after all of this;

All that I now have seen

and all that I now believe;

but I can't be sure.

(not really)

It would be easy to say:

That they never loved you.

Not like I did.

Never sat beneath a mesquite tree

upon folded knees

in the dusty wind.

A pack of filched camels

and couple of stolen beers

tucked in our lips

and our laps.

You

listening

as I read

short stories

in the Abilene sun.

Never burnt

with the rage

and contempt

that fueled us both

in those lonely years.

In that lonely place

Never hated

with such singular frustration;

the world and all its misery.

It would be comforting

to believe:

That the gathering of those faces

in that place

to this day

was not a blasphemy.

But these things

feel like lies.

And tonight,

in a crowded room,

surrounded by loved ones,

and filled with wonder.

I felt the rounded out hole

that's been left in my heart

since the day I took the call.

Put my finger through its center.

Edged its' tip around the scar

of the wound.

I try to fill it with your face

back lit

in west Texas sunlight.

All steel blue eyes

shining

with vast intelligence;

and all the rage

that comes with it.

Your corkscrew muscles

and crooked grin

cocked sideways

in a transcendent

Fuck You.

Because

both of us

always

knew

that when the folks

of Fairway Oaks

said

"stay away from that kid."

It was us they meant.

And

I don't care for the why.

It's irrelevant.

Or otherwise obvious.

I want to know where.

Where are you now?

And

If it ever got easier

for you

there?

And if they let you know

in that place,

wherever it is,

that you never left me

and I never left you

in the where,

I am

now.

The Girl and The Bird

Flitter here, Little bird.

I see you dart
in canopy
Colors
caught in sunshine.

I
upon porch swing,
my weight
borne
chain
squealing
beneath Implacable

Steely Gaze

I
chipped
marble exterior.
You,
tiny and shining
transcendent
beauty

here

then gone

then back again.

The steel
of this frame
shaped by frustrated exhaustion
holds
the blood
and sweetness
of a heart
mesmerized
by Flower

Spring

Water.

Gaze held
frozen
by the sight
of

a
shining moon.

Alone in
a street

somewhere,
amazed.

You touched
me
without
hands
and
hold me
without will.

A Singular event
that ripples
throughout the world.

A shiver
through
the glass
of a windowpane
on impact.

Perfection in Aimlessness.

Color in air.

Reveling

Sweet

Confusion.

I whisper
softly

an entreaty
that always
you be
Free
and
Joyous.