366 Days: Roots (Day 135)

Roots
The springtime rain is falling
and the road is filled with longing.

I realize, this is such a worn cliche.

But when you love with wild abandon

sometimes you are left standing

underneath a wilting apple tree.

The fruit falls bruised and battered.

Your fragile heart is shattered.

But the roots, the roots will set you free.

366 Days: Still Here, Still Writing

Childhood, 1934

Do you remember our childhood?

There was the empty schoolyard.

There was a gnarled dogwood tree, white blossoms,

smell of brushfires scenting the air.

It was hot that summer,

sweltering, you bent before me

writing secrets on the dusty ground.

Late evenings cooled off.

Daddy brought us ice chips

and laughed at the chickens, clucking and pecking.

Yes! How could I forget this? Yes!

We were girls together.

Dripping beads of water, tasting dust.

We saw the sun going down. Going down.

Watching our mother’s back

as she waltzed away.

Forgive her.

Forgive us.

366 Days - Waking From A Dream

I dreamed we never knew each other

but instead of oblivion,

I wandered dimly lit hallways

searching for a trace of you

fragments of bone or drops of blood

proof you had paced these floors beside me.

An orderly offered me cold compresses, strips of gauze

and slices of stale bread

when all I really wanted was a glass of wine.

Wine that tasted of sterling silver and sea salt,

smoky anise and stone cherries.

I lay down on a raft

waiting there silently

until he struck a match and pushed me out to sea.