Mother

She sneaks up on me
and comes from places
I may regret
or rejoice or can’t shake
the noise of bottled memory
uncapped and spewing
a heart full of races
from her and to her and
then swiftly away
She sneaks up on me
in my familial stance
hands on hips
eyes lowered to see
who has harmed me
I cherish those times
when I had the chance
to mock her
to laugh and to
warn her I was
no easy target
She sneaks up on me
when I feel my hands
grasp my ample hips
and I tell her in memory
she no longer inhabits
the good in me
the mood that places
my hands on my hips
has no other reason
than to see at a distance
those recovery ships

WINGS

bleak bloody blindness and
the sharp cruel behindness
of things darkened in shade
expecting growth
in a sun gone waylaid
my notebook is waiting
like an Sherpa on Everest
give her direction
or she will crash first
now or never
doesn’t matter this time
she will plough on and then some
only anger will gnaw at
demeanor gone frolicksome
he died she died we all died
in frozen retainer
I had wings once
waxed and full of desire
my mother
my father
my sister on fire
a corrugated face
allows the rain to drip down
an unregulated race
stumbles to finish
the race to the crown
the most important word
is yes unless it is no
we are all the same humans
in our quest for desire
what we don’t get over
are the remains of the fire
earth is a stew
we may rise above
the pulse the breath
we are a bleak bloody blinded
discordant choir
the best people left
tell the stories round the campfire
surrounded by death
lift the mandolin
the harp
the fingers snapping
the heart
rules the space between things
soar now or dive
the heart only sings
drink until rules
change into wings