Tuesday, 27 May 2014

rattle snake reeling

Quietly sipping on a dream I hold close, realising now the one I love most is the me who stands despite it all making plans to be a good person and do those things right you know that night we shared a secret and a smoke and I listened while you spoke yeah I really did listen. 
So listen-
It's not so hard to tell the truth and  be a friend and all the rest and I know you do it well, and I know you so I can tell when things aren't right and you're putting up a fight to all those voices in your mind saying  you're running out of time and the days are ticking by like your heart ticks over those same old lines and I'm sifting through all those scraps of paper trying to find the hope you gave me cause all I have to give is what I learnt from your pages and you're gonna live and be someone big I know these things you know, I know the lung rattle feeling - rattle snake reeling - she said I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy and i'm telling you now that your feelings matter and today I held the hand of my little girl self surrounded by the people I love and I told her it would all be okay and it's okay to play and innocence in children isn't a given it's a privilege and a circumstance of luck and location and you know I know these things the hard way and right back at you baby with your hat tipped left, let's stay a while in this crumbling place with peeling paint and watch the sky some more some more I could look up there till my brain feels sore and my feet speak riddles about where they've been, where they've been. I've seen skin turn a shade of grey while mine breathes and sighs and I wish I could protect you from all those lies and make it all okay like you did for me that day and right now all I can tell you is it's okay and it's okay to play. 

Saturday, 24 May 2014

For whatever you're planning

Earlier I thought of you 
your grass stained skin 
unapologetic and far away. 
I thought of how great it is
to hold your bones
and pretend.

What if I told you
and that was the end?
What if I told you the truth
and all those little birds left
my chest where they've resided
for a time picking
apart my insides?
I'd feel better, but I can't say 
with any certainty that 'better' is
something you'll ever be. 

Tell me what you were thinking biting
your lip eyes averted and hand 
around mine (limp like a fish after slaughter)

What if I told you I'm not as sad
as you think I am and in fact I don't 
need saving?
What if I told you you don't 
make my knees weak but rather instil a sense
of maternal worry in my wringing hands? 
What if I told you this poem isn't even about you, but a combination
of every one I've loved
cause you're all the fucking same.

Earlier I thought of you and 
it was fleeting. (I think about me now)

Saturday, 17 May 2014

Sister Morphine.

and if 
there's one thing we 
have in common 
it's the sensation 
of caving in on oneself.

my interior monologue is an 
avalanche matched only 
by the weight 
of the whisper 
that serves to articulate all 
that is her mind. 

I've never felt 
so lonely with a person. 

you could say 
we've lived a lifetime
of life kicking us in the teeth,
her with her fractured home and me 
with my family-shaped 
hole in my chest.
but we never had a pity party, pitied
others, pitiful in their 
party dresses
groomed to kiss the 
boy with braces
-we learnt to feign indifference
to sex and love and everything 
that reminded us of what we 
didn't have.

I listened on the phone to static
revelling in the reality
of her silent confession.

I lost what she never had 
and that wasn't something we had in common.
what do you say to someone who
envies your grief in comparison
to their life-long
you say you're sorry, and let the avalanche
fall between the lines and over 
all that's left

Sunday, 11 May 2014


Once again a fleeting moment never meant to linger has hooked me by the heel and I'm suspended in it from now until I suck it dry and devoid of all meaning. Your fingers curled in sleep tracing the contours of my soft belly - your smell and the chasm of time that opens up when dawn breaks and there are still hours until we're forced to unfold. At surface value I'm tightly wrapped in skin but on the inside I'm flayed open all nerve endings and liquid /you're all moonlight blue and bones/ softly shaking with the effort to keep the distance between us at bay. Our bodies curved like question marks asking why is it so wrong to want.