Paper Tigers

I had hoped you didn’t know

My words are only paper tigers

They rustle fluttering like the wasps

Locked in the tower of my throat

I stare at the tea bags

Slumped against stained ceramics

Victims of drunk recklessness

Just like me

And this

I will the wasps to fly out

And sting you

In ways my words cannot

But they fumbleuselessly

Against my pride

Blocked by the wall of tears

That must come first

There’s no space for tears

On this saucer sized table

Where could they go?

Not onto your shoulder

Helped by your hand to cross

That bridge

 It’s soggy in ways

Only burnt toast can be

No,

Those tears would only

Trip into my mug

And I don’t cry for those decaying teabags

And I hate salty earl grey

Worse than hemlock

And you’re still there

In that café chair

Napkins flutter

Toddlers’ fisty shaking threats

And I see my tigers

Escape and lose my eyes

Across the napkins’ faces

There is a silence

The silence as one swollen raindrop

Splashes against a fevered side walk

And evaporates

While thunder sulks and lightning screams

Why does this silence

Feel like your dance of victory?

Because I want the song of my tiger’s snarls

Right now

Because they should be ripping out your tongue

About now

But it seems like you’ve got mine instead

The key to my tower of waspy confusion

Your arrogance and alm

Pull my paper tigers by the tail

Fold them diagonal crossed and back

Into origami cranes

Those words

That just last night growled

King of the jungle

To my hairbrush

You’ve diminished to weak and gangly

Stick legged cranes

And I’m sick of it

Sick of hopping around

On one gangly leg

The other bent up

Trying not to take up

Too much space in your world

And I’m done with it

My words may be paper

But I am not a crane

I’ll stiffen them with salt and salty tea

Before I’ll ever let you fold me up

Haiku

He tugs on rose smoke
Daring it to entangle
In his siren curls

Redemption

Standing on the ledge

Hope’s seams are quickly

Coming loose

For it carries its own remains

In a collection of thumb sized stones

Smooth and silky

Jagged and dirty

Each a pricking a rememberance of surrender

Mistakes and regret

Knock together

And I feel my threads

Stretching to contain one more hope

That will not be fulfilled

…

I reach down through the layers

To the very beginning of it all

Fingers scraping against guilt and regret

Tired wishes and battered dreams

I find one

Perhaps a faded motivation

Or just an opportunity now shut and locked

A flick of the wrist

And I send it sprinting across

The glossy surface of the water

Until it sinks without complaint

One stone by stone

I let them sink away

Into the watery shadows

Of my now forgiven past

Grief

You feel me

I slide down your spine

Playing on ribs like xylophone keys

Minor thirds you feel me

But you play deaf and pretend

You’ve just tangled up your insides

By accident

Mistakes can explain anything

You pretend

You do not clench your heart and jaw

Whenever you see that face

The face that makes your feet

Feel like defrosting steaks

Cold and clammy with condensation

Not tears

Oh no

But you feel me

Because all that’s on tv

Is slippers and socks and blankets and socks

On tv you watch twice removed

Through darkened store windows

You feel me

When it seems impossible that anyone

Could do anything as mundane as sleep”

At night

Because you’re twice removed from life

Right now

Staring through double pains

And all you can feel are my mallets

Shuddering up and down your spine

Boy

Standing against the brick wall

All that is missing is the blind fold

Hands tied and the last cigarette

One last wish

That just once everything might fit

Shoes and coats and all the ragged puzzle pieces

That they might drag their way

Across chipped Formica

Find a partner and dance

And dance until they all fall down

Into a beautiful picture of laughing and

Dizzy smiles

But nothing fits

Not the untied shoes on his feet

Or the handed down pants

As they slide down off bony hips

The cliff of hope

Nothing fits

Not his hands in his pockets

Pretending they were thrust there in defiance

Not from weakness in the cold

Nothing Fits

Not even his name in this country

He stares at the cracks in the sidewalk

Like they were a map he could follow

Away from the cold and dark unfamiliar

Home.

Reading

Trace your fingers over the leathery skin

Give in

Its red tongue is calling

Siren’s song

Let its smell reel you in

And enjoy the prick and hook

Peace in this captivity

Nothing else but those words

Curling fibrous fingers at you

They beckon

Doctor's Daughter

Stomp. Shuffle. Stomp, Stomp.

The shrug the sigh

The dance

I know so well.

Daddy’s home.

Stairs creak and groan,

To carry the weight of Daddy,

And all the people he’s saved today.

So many people.

So many people that just one more

Clad in bunny slippers and a smile,

Is just too much.

I am the straw

Daddy the camel.

But,,,

,I say,

Straw does not have to break your back.

Straw helped baby Jesus sleep,

Straw makes roofs to save against the storms.

I could be that straw instead.

Strong.

I could save you.

When people ask me what I want to be,,,

,Roof straw and save the camels!,

They shake their heads and smile

Ah

Pretend they understand

But they live in a world of shaking heads

Loud sighs and dangerous straw.

A world of Creaks and Groans.

Daddy can save you from those,

But not the sighs,

He’s got them too.

They will never understand.

I want to save my father.

But Daddy has a strong slate roof

And stairs to carry his sighs

Closed mouths behind closed doors

Are what save him,,,

I am just the straw.

1/2 Off Love

It sat there,

In the window,

With a sign singing:

"This week only, ½ off love!"

It seemed like a good deal.

But now it's lying on my bed,

And when he turns,

The springs gossip

And titter nervously;

Loud as my mother's raised eyebrows

,,,And I sigh.

The wind casts a sideways gasp through the picture

Window, averted buffs bump carefully against

The leaves of my book

Flutter limply.

Through memories and lessons

Not always learned,

all the way through

The pages written by others.

All the pages written

By ½ off love.

Strings of words

Strings on my limbs

But no strings attached.

Don't ask too much

I'm ½ off love remember?

The Bed creaks again,

Springs in muffled hysterics.

Until,,,

My pen scratching

The wind swish whiffing

But strings and springs are silent.