InnocenceMy wings beat against the rubied muscles of my back, clawing at the bones that cage them in their ivory bars.
Oh how I wish my fragile fingers were mighty claws, sharp and deadly, so that they might tear open this bitter flesh and separate the muscle and bone so that my wings would unfold, pure as virgin snow.
A talk with Dad about his cancerI put my trust in the pilot,
the man in the cockpit
to get me home.
With closed eyes he adds,
I can live with that.
the dress hangs in the back of my closet,
ashamed, limp and dangling
like a hanged lady at the gallows.
it is a faded reminder
of years ago,
of the body I wore
in times gone.
I run my fingers over the pale fabric,
trying to recall that dark peach pit
rolling in my stomach,
that intrusive disgust,
that unclear thought running through
my mind that night.
I was younger, then,
when I decided
I'd never be worth
a frame on the wall.
I peeled myself apart
in front of the mirror,
shed the dress like snakeskin,
left it like abandoning a child
and sent myself to
shiver against the wall.
while they all laughed
at their faraway party,
I trembled over the lyrics
of the deafening silence
in my middle school bedroom,
trying to ignore
that sad pink pile of my image
laying fat and loose in the corner.
today I slipped on the dress again,
stepping my toes into its frigid waters
before letting it tumble down over me.
I stood at the mirror
and decided that the dress was lovely,
On the nature of the sky1.
I touch the sky --
greasy fingerprints left on
rainbows and butterflies,
glimpses of the West
torn in pale clouds.
I left my heart somewhere:
in the atmosphere
above heaven but below
the dead zone where float
spacemen and aliens.
I often refer to myself as a
especially when I notice
dark wings unfolding
and a shadow spreading beneath me.
I see devils drifting on downdrafts,
angels falling from flight,
and my rapture begins --
I rise up through flames until
the storms extinguish me.
I live in a corner of
the astral dimension "Gravity,"
where everything falls and
kisses the earth, leaving my home
empty and dreamless.
space.the sky is a virgin, you can't touch her.
my body is a highway for your hands,
but somedays it pretends it is the sky.
it is venus, do not venture too close.
hold your distance on the days i don't know how to be near anyone.
i don't remember how to be near you.
cut me to the bone,
you will find glass instead of marrow
crevices for veins.
breath too deeply and i shatter a little more
dig deeper and you will find
i am deep space,
infinite miles of empty head feelings.