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Odd Creature

stegosaurus

An eccentric young woman

descends polished wooden stairs

in stockings, with light, bouncy steps

full of energy.

 

A vision of distinct individuality,

her presence dares adults to defy mediocre lives.

Disconnect from adolescent bravado

emerges among those present

with each exotic footfall into the room.

Dreams and confidence of childhood

are shown to have settled into a run-of-the-mill existence

as this odd creature breezes in.

 

Porcelain skin is smooth and glowing.

Dark eyes lead to deep pools of creative knowledge

and foreign thought.

Turquoise blue and vibrant purple hair

shines.

Side ponytails curl and twist

with her movements.

A gentle teal ocean kiss to her shoulder on one side,

a violet jolt on the other.

 

A feminine lacy black dress juxtaposes a puffy white rabbit’s tail

peeking out from under

the hem of a black military coat.

With a quick shrug, a stegosaur backpack is over her shoulders.

Pink, orange, brown and yellow spikes

protrude from her back.

 

A surprisingly deep and husky voice reveals an ancient soul

inside a youth’s body.

In one throaty breath she says a quick hello and good-bye,

making no apology for her brevity.

 

An air of mystery is left in her wake.

Thoughts of her unusual tail and unique character

bring a smile

and a moment of wistful longing

for lost youth.

by

Falling Tears

Tears are falling all around me,
diamond sorrow beads
silently spilling over flushed red cheeks.

A room full of emotion
becomes a sauna as numb people gather.
Perspiration dots foreheads,
dark circles stain arm pits.

Words of comfort are spoken
while words of sorrow are swallowed
along with stagnant, suffocating air.

A youth walking
in the shadow of addiction
stepped across onto the wrong side
of the line.
In an instant his soul sped away.
Life evaporated.

Anger rises above grief.
Anger at the monster
that has come into our homes.
Anger at the beast
that has enslaved our loved ones.
Anger at the powerlessness
we have in the face of this horror.

Hot tears stream.
Heaving tears overflow.
Shocked tears splatter.

Tears are falling all around me
diamond sorrow beads
silently spilling over flushed red cheeks.

by

Pieces of Me

Pieces of me
are sliced along definite lines.
An exacto knife
used with meticulous care
creates little wedges to let others glimpse
what they need to see
yet
allow me
to hold myself together
long enough to discover
what the whole of me
resembles.

In my precision
of personality division
I have lost a critical sliver of pie.

Peaches without cream,
Abbot without Costello,
Romeo sans Juliet.

Prosciutto thin identity
has left only crumbs of myself
that even a mouse turns away
in search of something more satisfying.

Bits and chunks
fragments and hunks,
accuracy is gone
along with my sense of self.
I am stretched,
a drum without a skin.

I collect and contain
delicate scraps and tainted morsels
discarded haphazardly
wiping the knife on a hip.

Like Humpty who fell
my shell
is cracked.
I don’t have King’s horses or King’s men
to put everything back
again.

Paper Mache is my life line.
Glued sheets and strips
rebuild layer upon layer
of my raw, divided self.
All of the fragments lump together
as a heavy, wet mush.

Dried,
form is given
to a new
unbroken heirloom.
A valued object full of stories
to be passed from
generation to generation.

A hidden treasure beneath all the layers.