I: Two days later
I who have been wordless seldom,
reach into the depth of a numb throat
and force the words out like retching.
Chest cavity broken open like a thing prepared for feasting.
My heart; asunder.
This grief has teeth and she gnashes.
This is fear, and flight-
a dinner guest who has expired after dessert,
sits, head lolled to the side,
as people clean up.
Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it.
A keening wail that rises like bile,
foams like a wave, over takes the throat
and just like that, it’s out.
Every moaning voice that howls together,
and someone somewhere instead hears a song.
II: Worth
A delicate question
clutched close, beyond the observance
of a quiet room.
Will this happen? Could this occur?
A necklace of red grapes,
sweet collar-bone that beckons your kiss.
You tell me I am safe, you will keep me safe,
but I am not one to be kept.
More like, a rootless tree bearing fruits,
as apt to run as stay.
Your hand, on my back as
I fall fitful into slumber.
Your stability has been the sun,
my beating heart;
the Earth which circles without consideration,
you are the only thing it knows.
This week grief split me open without permission.
A mess, pomegranate seeds and mango flesh on
a cold tile floor.
Anxiety made me heavy with worry,
falling, falling, plop.
All fruit bleeds. My chest is full of it.
Stuffed to bursting, a captive cavity.
My head rattles as if empty,
but instead, full of
orange rinds and lopped off pineapple tops.
The throw aways, like me, like you.
This has happened. This has occurred.
Fingers, blood blister raspberries,
weeping due to worried drumming.
Fruit basket of a woman, carefully arranged,
left at your door step, a gift.
Quickly, quickly, before she spoils.
Now decide her worth.
Words For Trade 