Soul Stirrings
Stir my soul and mix me up
I’m made of many things
writings on sidewalks
hidden beliefs in my eye
cups of life to savor
Stir my soul and mix me up
made of endings, closed to others
heartbeats lined up in a row
fire without need of matches
sensual breath on naked skin
Stir my soul and mix me up
parts of scars that don’t heal
twigs cut free from my beginning
fragrance of earth, molded into clay
frayed strings of multi-colored thoughts
Stir my soul and mix me up
composed of music inside my spine
slamming doors and exits from life
flashing lights warning keep away
reflections that lie, bent masks of truth
Stir my soul and mix me up
unused time waiting to be filled
blank slate waiting for emotion
patched pieces and worn thread
exposing life holding me together
Stir my soul and mix me up
fill my thirsty soul and rampant dreams
for I’m made in the shape of a bowl
waiting to be filled with uplifting words
soaking my skin, setting past free.
Flush The Monsters Down
There were boys
Who wanted to vandalize my sanity
A piece of their property
No, I didn't belong
But I had nothing else going on
And so I took a dip
In the sea of shit
Let them feed off my hips
I was nearly blue and gone
Before he saw me
When he could did he find me
In dire need of breathing
Pulled out the barbed rays of which did surround me
Brushed the hair out of my face to tell me I was alive
Saved me from the monsters that I allowed to surround me..........
Time To Go Back
Listen to/YouTube Adam Green (Dance With Me) while reading this
I can taste cigarettes on my breath
When I think of the times we were young and beautiful
I can smell the leaves ablaze, the wet dirt in my hair
The evergreens sweating, watching us flirt and drink from our cans
I can hear the thunder from the drums roll and rumble
From under the steel doors leading down to your lair
We danced to the sound of fun, to escapism, to being in love and lost in a trance of victory-we had found our treasure
There were candles flickering, laundry going
I could taste the whiskey on your breath and memorized each golden speck that shimmered in your brown eyes while you watched me undress-Six
There were purple, red lights, greens and golds
With dangling plastic hearts taped from the beams and rafters
Decorating, illuminating
Our spirits into crosses
A curtain, hiding your photo enlarger, paintings on the wall
I scratched your back
An organ, a pipe, a set of cards
We kissed, we kissed, we kissed
The warmth from his skin
Brought me home as a child
I felt so secure
We were a helix of flesh, morphing into one heart
On his tattered old couch
A love so strong, it was bulletproof
To this any army could march
Music of the past blared from out of his record player
"Vanilla Fudge"
We smoked and puffed out clouds
For dragons to fly through
And all the dangers in the world became see through
A curtain, hiding your photo enlarger, paintings on the wall
We smoked and puffed out clouds
And laughed at nothing, but everything and all.
Of the Earth
I am made of mud,
brown flakes dried to my boots,
sand clinging to my toes,
dirt tracks left behind wherever I go.
I am made of the sun,
a burn turned to dark lines on my feet,
freckles on my nose,
fresh golden streaks in my hair.
I am made of trees, water and rocks,
a scratch on my arm from the juniper,
a bruise on my shoulder from a sip at the creek,
scrapes on my knee from a collision with the mesa.
I am made of the sky,
eyes bright from long nights spent under the moon,
cheeks aglow from wishing upon stars,
smile full from hours spent dancing with the northern lights.
I am made of the earth,
a sigh for every walk spent with a deer,
a secret for every whisper shared with the ocean,
and a heart full from days spent picking flowers in meadows,
nibbling on berries, wandering mountain ridges,
chasing rainbows, and, simply, just being.
can you remember this day.
I will always remember
How unfamiliar it felt
On that morning when we woke up
Still tangled around each other,
When you drifted a safe kiss across my face
Just to assure me you were close.
It was right in that moment I realized
You were the first man
To lay down beside me
Without any expectations
Just Another Face
An accident. That’s what I tell people when they ask. Boiling water or sometimes oil. I tripped, that’s all. An unfortunate spill with catastrophic results.
I wasn’t beautiful. My nose was too long, my face narrow, my cheekbones plagued by freckles. And my eyes were farther apart than they should be. The cumulative effect was a bit feline actually. But I wore my thick, auburn hair long, curled at the ends. And I knew about makeup, so boys looked my way. One boy in particular.
He had this desperation about him. When he presented in class, his balled hand would drip sweat. His hair fell in long greasy strings. When teased, his mouth twitched into a teeth-baring sneer, but he never fought back. He took the punishment, laid flat against the lockers, curled into a ball on the floor, all with that same sick look stamped on his face. I watched the whole thing go down once. It was eerie how silent he was while the kids pounded on him, kicking him in the neck, the chest. I didn’t step in though. How could I?
Just before the bell rang every day, he squirmed in his seat, slipping and sliding on the plastic like an eel, bolting so quickly that his desk rocked back when he left it. But his eyes were the thing. His eyes would sometimes spin as if possessed, as if trying to latch onto something to keep him in place. Spin and then refocus, always on me. Always on my face.
I knew he wanted to ask me. I could feel it coming in hot waves off of him. His shadow stood over me, wanting. He blocked the sunlight and stuttered the question, but I just couldn’t. Not even to be nice. When I said no, he pulled out a vial. He yanked my hair back and brought me to my feet with one hand and then ripped out the plug with the other.
The fire that fell from the tube ate away my flesh to the bone, pooled in my eye sockets, spread into my hair. I can still feel it burning even now. When I fell, screaming, at his feet, he dug into the raw flesh, ripping and pulling and muttering to himself. I felt my nose slip past my cheek. Felt my left ear slide to the tile floor. As I screamed, it ran into my mouth and down into my throat.
When a teacher lifted him off, he shouted “Now, you are something special. Not just another face.” And he laughed. Laughed at me as I lay quaking in blood and melting tissue.
Blind now, I’m not allowed to buy a gun. Knives however... I’ve taken my time, working my fingertips over the blades, feeling the weight in my hands. He gets out in 19 days and I will be waiting. Waiting to carve off that sneer. He will learn what it means to be not just another face.
For Love
“Nonna, it’s me Jackie. I’m right here. Nonna?”
“She may be out for awhile yet. She’s had some trauma.”
I ignored the nurse, still shaking her.
“Nonna? Can you open your eyes for me?"
“Miss. Really, I must...”
“Look,” I said to the nurse. “Save it, okay? I plan on being here for a bit, so just…” I made a shooing motion with one hand, “toddle off would you?”
Thankfully, she was young. An older nurse would have lit into me. She exhaled noisily and left, shutting the door with a bang.
“Nonna? Wake up, okay? I have to talk to you.” And with that, she opened her eyes immediately. Faker.
“Jacklyn? Is that you?”
“Nonna. You know full well who it is. And why I’m here. I know Mom talked to you before your…episode.” I used air quotes on the last word. “So you know I know. But I want to hear it from you.”
“Oh Pish! Jackie, it was a long time ago. And I’m ill.” She motioned to the various monitors, giving off beeps and squeaks in her hospital room.
“Yeah, I’m aware.” I said dryly. “But I still want to hear it from you.” I leaned down and tipped the straw from the pink hospital mug toward her. She took a long pull of the water and smacked her lips as if it were whisky.
“Alright alright.” She dropped the act and pulled herself upright in the bed, scooching over and patting the empty side. I pulled myself in next to her, tucking in like when I was a kid.
“Spill,” I added and she rolled her eyes at me.
“Okay. Your father was a bastard. And by that I mean, he was an asshole, you understand?” I nodded yes. Nonna’s opinion of my father was a well-worn theme.
“Anyhow…I never liked him, not for a moment. Your mom, your beautiful mother was always too good for that man. Too good by half!”
I nodded and rolled my wrist out making a “go on with it” motion.
“He had a monkey on his back. A big hairy one…”
“Yup, got it. Heroin. Mom told me.”
“Well did she tell you that he drove my old station wagon headlong into a tree with you in the carseat?”
No, she hadn’t.
“No, I can see she didn’t. And he stole from your Mom and me. And our neighbors. And he left you in the car while he shot up behind the 7-11 and someone tried to steal the car, but thank God the piece of shit wouldn’t start. You were two then.”
Oh. I didn’t know that either.
“So, your mom. Was in looooove with him. And didn’t have the cojones to leave him.”
Jackie had also heard this tirade over the years. Nonna was big into cojones and the fact that most people (including her Mom), had nothing between their thighs where their balls should be.
“And?” I held my breath.
“Well, since they were never going to afford their own place, I had planned to salt his food until his damn heart gave out. That’s what I did with my first husband Charles. But when you were born I ran out of time.”
This was no revelation. Nonna had told me dozens of times that it took her 11 years to kill her first husband. According to her, she had “salted the shit” out of everything he put in his mouth, including his toothpaste. He had a massive coronary when she was just 29. She wore a hat adorned with a peacock feather to the funeral and cozied up to the new deacon, my grandfather.
“So, I took $1,800 out of my savings, bought all of the shit I could with that money, which was a lot, and invited him over for a fireside chat.”
I could picture her, 35 years ago, but just as bossy. Telling young thugs to give her all the drugs her money could buy. And not getting stabbed or ripped off or worse because she was harder than they were.
“I laid out all of the “works” onto the coffeetable in my back room. I told him he could have all of it, but he had to leave you and Kimberly that night and never come back.”
“What did he say?”
“Well,” she shifted her weight and a musty, dead skin smell rolled off of her. “He never looked me in the eye. I remember that. He just stared down at the powder, all in little envelopes, scattered here and there. He was sweating. And he asked to see my locket.”
The ER staff had taken it off, but I knew what was in it. Mom was on the left, her senior picture. And I was on the right, my first birthday.
“I took it off and passed it to him. He spent about five minutes looking at it. And he cried. Just a couple of tears. That’s all you were worth to him.”
“And then?” I kept my voice steady, not rising to the bait.
“Then he shoved all of it into his pockets and left.”
“So you didn’t…” I asked.
“No.” But she was lying and I knew it.
“Nonna, why not tell me the truth? You’ve about given it all up anyway.”
She shook her head side to side like a little kid in the throes of a tantrum.
I grabbed the arm with the IV and twisted it hard.
She grimaced and ground her teeth together. She glared out of one eye at me. A wild dog appraising a wolf.
She scowled and put up her hands in surrender. “Alright! Alright. Damn you. I set him up in the basement with some food, a TV and all the stuff. Then I locked the door.”
And there it was. Finally, after all these years.
“Did he try to get out? Did he bang on the door and plead with you? Did he at least try?” I asked.
“No,” she responded. And this time her eyes, the flatness of her voice, told me what I needed to know. There was no mistaking the truth there.
“Ah.” I said.
“I did it for you.” She said. And then added, “But it was a waste. You’re just like him.”
“Yes. Yes I am.” My drug was gin, but otherwise she was right. Could I walk away from a room full of booze, food, TV, blankets, no responsibilities? Not likely.
I grabbed my purse from her roll-away table and stood up to leave.
“You’re a cold bitch, Nonna.” I said. And then I reached down and gave her a hug. She murdered him for us. For love. And I wanted to hate her for it. But I didn’t. I just felt empty.
