Good News

In one minute

a chaos of words

torpedos to ears who listen for

good news

and the talons of deception feel like feathers to them

The rest of us claw our eyes out

afraid to look

and it is seen as a revolutionary act when we stare

straight on

It isn’t though.

he opens his mouth

and tricks the flies to taste the nectar

and they die with a smile

for something sweet.

Haley. 3

She sat on the wooden bench

Her rain boots dangling

Water dripping

She looked at me for an explanation

So much grief

devastation in a pink rain coat

“Do you want to play with me, Haley?”

I felt smaller than her

Patronizing and empty

I hope she didn’t feel that too

“No” she said.

Her eyes pooled and I drowned

Looking at her for a feeling I could discuss

We are both gasping for air.

Her mom comes

Looking better than I expected

But I’ve never been on a first name basis with it

The closest I’ve been is pink ribbons and commercials

I ask her how she’s feeling

Afraid to pry

Afraid to seem careless

They walk out of the classroom

And I stay on the bench with that little girl

Longer than I mean to.

Cory. 3

He screams at me

A lion cubs mouth

Of silver teeth

Like bullets he’s chewed

One day he came back from the dentist

And he showed them to me

Smile as wide as the horizon

Beautiful, but

Red

He spit at me

Exchanging Saliva for syllables

I grabbed his hand

Trying to be gentle

But he refused.

He screamed

Then walked near me

I saw tears that seemed like family

Familiar and consistent

I told him his anger was understood

But not tolerated

His Batman shoes were at my knees

He yelled.

Shiny teeth.

He put away his power

So I put away mine.

And while he breathed in between his tears

I remembered where his power came from

And I held his hand.

Purpose

Will I be transformed

A piece of granite

Made into art

People gawk and I remain beautiful

A historical masterpiece

Poised for humanity to admire

 

Will I be remembered?

A book written

That grows with the universe

And you flip through my pages

And find meaning in every letter

A story that can be recited to an audience

Waiting to be told what to think.

 

Will I be loved

Shrines dedicated to my honor

A religion that rises

Worships my steps

A journey copied by thousands

In hopes of being this close to me.

 

Will I be forgotten

This old man he

Faked his death

To bury his family with loneliness

As he watched for tears

Salted with pain and sorrow.

A terrible thing to digest.

A Nightmare

You have your grandmas face

it’s beautiful

And haunting

Like your shadow

Betraying you in the dark

Like a tree

Something beautiful

Transformed into an illusion

A monster.

When the moon shares its light

Sometimes when you laugh

Her chin appears on your face

And it scares me

Cause her blood is in you

Deep red with a veiled purpose

My sweet girl

With your grandmas blood

That craves for a monster.

A nightmare.