Weaving through the darkness

Of the garden

Bumping against the toolshed

Certain memories

Knot odiously around the

Bare lining of my slippers

A doll by the kitchen sink

Hangs

By its thread

Choking a vase of sunflowers

As they feel the wall

Laboriously climbing

Breathing

Walking barefoot through the forest

Pine needles impale the soles of my feet

Stumbling across the field of grass

Where we used to read aloud from mud-stained notebooks

Watching the waves appear as the dancing hem of a white dress

I pour out sand and starfish from my shoes

We let the rain scar our faces

We let the lightning burn our souls

Sitting on the steps overlooking the running track

I use a stone to write to her

Walking in the subway tunnels

I watch the wall's paint peel off like scabs from an old wound

Moth-fed light blinks and closes

At night I lie down in bed

Writing in my notebook

Burning the pages with my tears

Running through the forest

the beach

the grass

the track

the subway tunnels

Finding the other me

across from the tracks

I watch a rabbit eat its last meal whole

The vines choke a line of trees to death

I sigh and close my eyes and dream till I am dole

Leaves tickle my feet as they rush into the air

A zephyr gently smooths down the trees’ hairs and braids them one by one

A fire of emerald green, egg yolk yellow, and scarlet red bursts into lovely flames

I gaze dreamily into space, thinking of nothing

Suddenly, a deer steps out into the glade

I snap back into reality and stare at it in awe

It instantly freezes into a marble statue and eyes me warily

The sound of a gunshot pierces the air

Quickly, the deer darts to the other side of the forest

I sigh—I have never stood face to face with a deer for more than two minutes

Feeling ever so rejuvenated, I stretch out my arms and embrace all that is nature

I take in a huge gulp of air and breathe out, listening to the humming of my body

The only predator that I have to fear is time

I have one precious hour that I can step out of my shell

and let burst the poetic and stubborn side of me

The only hour that I cease to be another person

Distantly, I hear the drumming of a woodpecker—keeping time.

So why do you cry?

And why do you drool?

You play with a fly.

And sometimes you’re blue.

Why are you shy?

Why talk like a fool?

Sometimes you say “Bye.”

And you say you rule.

Rule what? The sky?

Why do you act cool?

Put down that pie!

And stop crawling onto that stool!

Oh stop blinking your eye!

I won’t give you a tool!

Great, I have to buy

Some diapers and be your mule.

Ugh, I have to try

So you don’t fall into a pool

Or pucker your lip to cry

Yes, I am a fool.

Foolish to treat you as my

Prince. No, I don’t want your rule

The end of your reign draws nigh

So don’t act so cool.

It’s now my turn to say “Bye.”

I won’t miss your drool

And your castle’s waters I won’t ply

Cuz I’m goin’ away from your rule

Light floods into the room

A girl wearing a white dress

Waltzes in

She grabs a glass of tomato juice

And splatter!

Her dress bleeds

The stain grows

Until a puddle circles around her feet

She screams for her mother to come

She is dying

Her new dress is ruined

Despite how thoroughly

Her mother cleans her up

It is futile

A stain the size of a hand

Is emblazoned on her dress—permanently

“Nature’s first green is gold”

A gold that scatters about

And hides beneath the brown

Or writhes around trees’ crowns

Mist drapes tentatively around emaciated tree branches

Citadels all around me—

Standing guard, guarding the

Door of Death until that day sweeps in

Fallen logs sleep on the ground

While squirrels seek to disturb their rest

Golden seashells ornament the feet of Neptune

And with each gentle motion, four more kiss his soles

A hidden trail greets my eyes and I

Choose to leave this golden dream

To seek my own reality

The snow drifts down like angels

While people sleep in their cozy beds

Somewhere, a dog barks

Its howl is carried by

The angry wind

And then dies down

When the wind suffocates it

Angels continue to descend from the sky

And form mounds shaped like whipped cream

The black elms tower in the sky

With white frosting on their bare arms

In the distance,

Some cars moan about the stress

Of navigating in this “storm”

No,

It is much more tranquil and beautiful

Than a storm

It is greetings from winter

Tonight the stars wink at each other

While the ocean rolls around

Restless and waiting for

Something dramatic to happen

Above the blue-gray waters

Sits a grandmotherly moon, casting her light

On the ocean and the line of trees far away

Suddenly clouds chase each other

The sky darkens to a charcoal gray

And the waves swell agitatedly

Thunder growls, calling for rain to come

Flashes of lightning decorate the sky

While the pouring rain

Half-drowns the island

Soon the rain turns to a drizzle

The sea finally calms down

And somewhere above

The moonlight creates a rainbow

I found them for the first time in my own backyard

They looked like slovenly-dressed dance models

Their white, puffy heads were what attracted me

“If you make a wish and blow the dandelion’s seeds, the wish will come true,” a friend had once told me.

So, I grabbed all of the dance models, just to satisfy my childhood greed, and

made seven wishes

The magical wishes weren’t grand but they did capture my need for intelligence and influence.

After committing such a praiseworthy deed,

I came back to the dandelions day after day

I loved them so much that I buried them inside of my heart

I even imagined them as my “lovely dolls,” thinking how they would appear if they were dressed in lavish clothing.

One day, the friend came to visit me and I excitedly invited her to look at my treasures that waited,

Sticking their necks out and peering at us

And I was so afraid that their pretty necks would break

But, my “friend” said contemptuously, “Who plays with these? Dandelions are not magic. Get rid of them.”

Inside, a part of my soul, my childhood desires deserted me

Yet, I looked at the dandelions, swaying in the wind and it was as if my heart was swayed in the same rhythm

I couldn’t part with them, not yet.

But I kept that part a secret.

Forgetfulness

Even that one word triggers lost memories

Like your great-great-grandpapa’s name

Like the smell of salty sandwich pickles

Like that embarrassing outfit you wore to school

Forgetfulness

Is the mist that snakes around the mountain

Is Fido’s quiet lapping of water

Is the sticky lollipop left too long on the kitchen counter

Forgetfulness

Comes like spring rain

Riding on a speeding train

Ensnares the memories--bitter, sweet--like a fishing net

And drops them

One by

One

Into black rivers

I wade into the water

Seeking for the pieces of me

Before I get too old

Before I forget what it’s like to remember

A deer darts away from the bushes while a rabbit hides in the thick undergrowth

Resting on a fallen log a bird chirps lazily

Deeper in the woods a brook snakes through

A single petal drifts on the water

Wild juicy berries hang

Like multicolored earrings on shrubbery

In the clearing voices chatter

A twig snaps heads turn sharply

A raccoon stands there blinks its mascara-like eyes

And flees hastily

Out of nowhere a gust of wind pokes its head

Through the skeletal branches and blows the intruders swiftly home