He moves up the wall quickly, ascending over three thousand vertical feet in a little over 3 hours. We all marvel at him, as well we should, that kind of hubris and fearlessness is an altar to the human spirit
Who fails to see the God who held him there
I go back to Alex’s choosing the rocks over the ladies
As I count days and hours and minutes and seconds
A slow hunger crawl
All fat girl dependence not on
Finger strength and will power but the dorsal strength of a lullaby–
Prayer comes from the Latin word precarius which means, obtained by entreaty. I remember years ago looking at the way it came to us through the feudal system–subjects would pray to their lords and protectors for the things they needed to survive.
Sometimes prayer can seem less feudal than futile. Is anyone listening? Will anyone come to save me? Those two questions can haunt the soul.
I believe in prayer. I believe it brings light and brings help.
The hardest time to tell someone to pray is when you yourself feel the most alone, the most abandoned.
Everyday drawn to the water where the white birds fly so low they seem to touch the silk-spun current which wants a body to believe it is blue-constant even though we both know this is just a trick of light, just-reflect-the-sky-vigilance, the clouds, the trees, occasional sun hold still across the surface until the wind kicks up little waves, waves above the deep, deep color of something technically translucent if you were to cup it in your hands, if you could cup it in your hands, if hands could hold the sea.
For the last three weeks I have had hives. Still have hives. I have sifted words in and out of how this feels and each time all words have come up short. They do not stop the itch. Like quack doctors, snake oil salesmen, or phone-a-gypsy psychics they play at reading my palms then leave me with no…
No salve for my slowly metamorphic
So I threaten them with silence or just undoing their fragile orthographic pieces unbending bes and esses into straight black lines
My monster sits
At the kitchen table
Gnawing on the hollowed bones
Finding scraps of meat left on them they say you can choke on these broken shards of wings, thighs
The breasts of flightless birds
Few eat their filigreed
But when they do you can see through
Each vivisected chamber
He mutters only phrases
Like girl, you know…girl if only… If only you had..
He is so very clever to leave out
Merciless verbs years and years of completely merciless verbs
Ellipses for teeth
Never dulled to the task
Of separating bone from marrow
You tell me the vultures
Are being decimated
By poison and other modern perils
Leaving the dead all alone
In their towers of silence
And I know this must be true for Rizpah will shoo them off
Until God chooses to relent…
This drought will define us
Cotton-mouthed and bone-dry
So cavalier about our own now-