Archive for the ‘house of love’ Category

J’miah

Posted: 02/16/2014 in house of love, house of women

j’miah got four sisters.

they dress ‘im up, sit his baby fat butt at their tea parties.

j’miah got all of their old

dolls, trolls, jacks.

you might’ve been surprised to see the green-haired naked marines

storm the beach and beat the Bratzis.

j’miah got four sisters, make him their pet.

they soothe and scold, make him be the dad or the dog.

time goes by, j’miah’s four sisters all get married, one by one.

all the husbands got sisters.

all the sisters think j’miah awfully cute.

“he understands things” they say.

“he’s not an asshole,” they say.

“like you,” they add, to the brother-husbands.

 

j’miah got four sisters.

it ain’t all bad.

he tell this basic fact to every new girlfriend,

including the new one,

the naked one,

the one with green hair.

______

for Kerry’s free verse challenge: Four.

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saw a friend

and chattered a bit, in front of skip’s bakery

in our serious fash boots,

in the crappy snow.

i never saw it coming:

the flu she gave me,

but it found me like trouble follows a fool.

 

saw a magazine

on a table at the chopping block salon,

and asked judy to pass it my way.

i never saw it coming, but it found me:

the perfume ad stuffed between pages like a toad in a stone,

that set me sneezing

like a snot devil on a hot tin roof.

 

now here you are,

leaning on my kitchen table with your elbows,

talking same as always, but something feels wrong:

i get that leaving feeling,

like I’m gonna lose something fast.

it ain’t allergy,

and it ain’t flu.

it might be me,

but i’m thinking more likely, honey, it’s you.

raylene

Posted: 01/13/2014 in house of love, Uncategorized

all i got to say is

you better be dead.

you better be in a ditch someplace,

out of your head

 

cos if you coulda called

knowing i was here waiting on it

what does that say about how you treat me?

it says plenty.  it says it all.

 

i got to ask myself,

do i really still feel the same?

is–

 

hello? baby?

what happened?

sit tight, sweetheart.

i’m on my way.

bad-ass owl

Posted: 01/12/2014 in house of crazy, house of love

Image 4i got a bad-ass owl

makes no distinction

between the high of my arms

and the high of the trees.

 

she sit down at mama’s sunday table

lookin pretty and tearing meat right off the bone,

holding her end of conversation

and her food down with her feet.

 

my bad-ass owl

sleeps through church and chores,

but at night she sees what none can see

and then she comes to me.

_______

for Margaret’s orb thing at Real Toads

 

 

crazy emmie bought teacher’s chalk at the five and dime,

went out in the six inch snow and wrote love letters to biker anne

on the sidewalk.

 

they all said, “anne honey,

i saw a blue star out the back window last night

and i know it means that this year will be different.

 

do you remember the barn owls and how they looked like taloned angels

those nights we made love and the scents were

straw, saddle soap, horse feed, and us?

 

baby, i’m not always crazy,

sometimes winter only stays the month–

if march is kind, i could still be your girl,

before time circles the night and i never see you again.

i love you now as i always have.

xox

emmie”

 

every year she swears she won’t steal money for the chalk,

go out barefoot in january

and have to spend two weeks up at reed city,

but some resolutions fall like flakes, pretty and helpless

under their own fragile weight.

______

for Real Toads.

see me sitting in the japanese bamboo out

way beyond the pool, the patio, the weirdly green grass outside the french doors.

i got one of your man’s little whiffle golf balls and i made a doll of it–

ain’t she pretty?

see me.

 

got your gardener trying to kill the knotweed, but hey,

when the tennis court cracks and heaves up from the bamboo roots beneath,

he’ll take to drink and stop showing up for work.

see me sitting here, waiting in the stalks.

see my wild red hair and the way i smile.

see me.

 

a night will come when the gin won’t work.

then you’ll leave the security system off and i’ll be there

with a kamikaze white bandana around my head

and i’ll stay until the rising sun.

then i’ll disappear; you’ll never see me again,

and the tiger stick will be all you’ll have to cure the ache that i’ll leave behind.

 

this is my revenge,

my red-haired air raid, my way of getting you back

for all the times you thought you were too good,

too straight,

too rich,

too sophisticated

to blink your designer edition eyes and

see me.

______

for Hannah’s Transforming Fridays challenge at Real Toads. I have written about Japanese bamboo (fallopia japanica), which is not true bamboo but bears the name, as well as others like sally rhubarb, tiger stick and knotweed. It is considered an invasive species and is extremely hard to eradicate, as my old neighbor discovered when he tried to kill the grove that stood behind both our houses. Me, I watered mine and loved on it like it was my baby. My small dog Alex used to go back in there and hang out, like he was king of the bamboo forest. He was!

the Lunchable

on the tv tray

with the gold legs and

flower art

 

is open

like the heart of any hostess

worth her salt.

 

had i known sooner

about your

parents’ visit,

 

i’d have got all the dog hair

off the carpet

and bought a second Lunchable.

__________

 

an excruciatingly imagist poem for the sunday mini challenge.