with six images by Blake Nellis
That single chair in the corner
is the only one without a shadow
but no one will dare sit there
because the sun shines directly down
and no one can bare the pressure....
and when asked to speak your truth
you feel like your icing might melt
and all that's left is a stick.
Reading between the railings
of my porch that overlooks
I can see glimpses
of their wet suits
and sand soaked hair
and failed attempts
of piggy backs and karate kicks
wondering who makes them dinner
and reads them to sleep
on the days that they get dropped.
Orange push-up pops are melting
always in my bowl
because the rain was held at bay
until someone would offer a song.
Today I sewed two sheets together
so we could cuddle big.
Ink like dust
is captured on
skin like paper
each time I walk from here to there
And it felt like I was here 5 years ago
talking trash about fuel grades and wine
and packing way too many scarves
I learned
he was thrown from his car
and she was trapped in her body
so I rubbed lavender in my hair
and typed the letter A really hard
asking for someone to make me dinner
Then I was in the middle
between two
others
so I danced by the fire without an umbrella
wishing the snow would bring whiskey
to my lips
But instead they danced on my table
and asked me to hold the garage door cord
taut
they asked me to hold it
taut
Two pieces of my house
are only a quarter of what I see
In this mud bathing my tire
and the nickel that lies face down
that rarely pays for my solitude
that barely pays for my dinner
of which I am stuffed
of the 2 pieces of my house
where scissors are found in only one drawer.
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