The Other You

this morning. 
I thought I saw you. 

from a distance, she 
walked towards me; 
pigeon-toed tough, 
just like you

her face turned, wrists 
circled in bracelets, 
a cigarette dangling; 
she exhaled with a snarl
more bark than bite

I imagined short, abused nails, 
a home-executed tattoo, 
eyes like Bette, always 

I was mistaken 

her shadow grew long
against the morning, 
but yours grew tall 
across my mind 

the evening 
we said goodbye 
you reassured me

everything. was. fine. 

I couldn't stop crying; 
thankful. fearful. helpless. 

from any distance, 
I cannot not worry 

that everything you create
disintegrates beneath 
the weight of a mind 
too brutal for your loveliness

raw. sweet. innocent. 
the least unworthy of 
what it's done to you 

I've always wished 
I could save you; 
remembered this 
very morning, 
that I can't

I can only hold your shadow; 
love you from a distance

I will. I do. 

A Talk with Henrietta

She tells me that I look like you
I've never really seen it,
but it's nice to think about

perhaps the small space between
two front teeth, dark eyes,
skin that browns like a round
smooth nut in sun

the way I love to dance,
the way you used to

in my mind, I see you;
your black dance pumps
fly across worn wooden floors,
five cents a dance

for years you watched me from the hallway
like someone I'd met but could not place;
a stranger out of context

who was it, dear, that gifted you
with the virus that cost you your life?

the real secret was not the child, it was the man

hundreds could not give you enough to love that away;

you paid the price at the end of a dark hallway,
your love for her presented at your weakest

when I was twelve I thought I saw you smile
from the Sacred Heart hung above
a pink chenille bedspread, your room
a light too bright for me to sleep in

although you waited;
I know she never saw you

with appetites as large as yours,
the uneasy comfort of a sad escape,
liquid rolling at the back of my throat,
my secret pilot light skewed, ignited

I know now why you stayed;
I wish now that she'd see you 

Unplug

A poetry prompt from the group: 

The Way Out Is

what was
is wearing
through

hairline fractures
the invisible exits
for what can not
be held back

you've spent a
lifetime patching

gathering plugs
for the largest hurts

made from the
circumstance
of others,
a monotonous
drama of
the daily

the pain of
avoidance
will break you

as holes multiply,
you will falter

relief lies
in the seeping
exit of your
self-made filling

How to Remember Me

we've collided too long;
predictable as Velcro

you hook, i loop

overandoverandover 
with tales of you 

first lie to self,
my listening was
significant

the first truth,
I am but 1 more 1
in your catalog
of possibles

you survived
better the lesson
to walk away

i survived
having failed it;
the odd one, out

an easily alienable
reminder held better
at a distance

receptors ever-ready;
surrendering, reticent
at slurred loveyous,
a desperate embrace

Su Abuela (His Grandmother)

with her back to us, surely
she cursed me from the stove
just another dirty puta her grandson
dragged home in the middle of the night,
expecting a meal and her silence come morning;
a pale stranger at her table

she patted the scapular in
the gully of her fragile chest,
begged the smiling virgin mother
to save him from his own evil;
muchacho perezoso

scrambled vegetables into
the last of her eggs, warmed
tortillas and a dutiful brew

anger severe as the straight part
of her dark hair, her soft kid-glove hands
shaking as she placed the meal before us,
eyes downcast, refusing to speak english
even when he asked her to

sunday morning, both of us
sweating drink and soiled skins,
his long white car parked cock-eyed
on the sidewalk, just touching
her miniature chain link fence
lined with Therese's roses

how foolish of me to think she slept
as we broke into her home
with our 3 am absurdity

ancestor's sepia-lidded eyes
watched us with disgrace
from wavy plastered walls;
in her silent room
she prayed the rosary,
asking for deliverance from us

how naive of me
to believe she'd think well
of my grateful words for such
a delicious meal, her effort;
how warranted her disgust

Lo siento Señora

HR

Mutual Narcissists

i am selfish as any other;
did i fool you

a well-constructed 
façade collapses and 

i am small - again

thick with unmet needs, 
a ravenous hunger for 

unable to extend 
the benefit of, 
overcome by doubt 

we ignore a 
beauty we might 
have mirrored 

face-to-face
with our kindred, 
secret ugly selves 

is this the end 
of an impossible 
innocence

or the path to 
a more honest us

Wise Beyond Years

it's alright, he said, to comfort me
all you tried to do was care about someone;
it doesn't matter if another doesn't reciprocate,
rejects you, or misunderstands you;
it matters that you loved

I'm sorry that you're hurt, he said;
remember there are those to
whom your willingness
means everything;
it matters that you love them

First Last

opposites 
at either end 
pull toward 
the other 

necessary 

first carries, last seeks; 
too much, too little 

on their respective paths, 
polarity reverses; 

first shakes loose, 
last is overwhelmed

A cut-up poem - poetry prompt

My latest cut-up poem, created from random words in magazines and three lines of three different poems. Most interesting to me was what my voice sought and created.  

I Wish I'd

With purity of intent 
I take the clue divine 
authenticity is a rare and valuable 
new, darker existence 

A writer's life erases a man's past 
with rhetorical flourish 
his old self an overwhelming version 
around his neck

You'll be there, freighted with meaning 
a sunny Tuesday, a white-stuccoed house, 
a single-digit number, 
drawing curtains, wooden shutters 

the soul that has a ghost 
too costly for repairs

You Would Have Liked to Have Loved Her Better

our hidden indiscretions
nut-browned skin, big eyes
a gap between our teeth
the better to bite them with

into the liquid sea,
we slipped so easily
our addiction for abandon
instinctual, secretive

felled by force, your
scarce nylons torn
one round heel broken
skirt askew in a corner
forearms, hips bruised

i know you know i do

felled by polite chemicals
clothing peeled from leaded limbs,
a plea before descent;
waking in a naked room
beaten in places not visible

you know me know you do

you would have liked
to have loved her better;
your silence a sentence
hers, a pain unintended

enough, you said, enough 
no choice was your voice

i know you know i know you know

New Year's After

It's the end of December;

you arrive in dreams, father,

ever-punctual, assertive, persistant

For what better day for you to have left

than one you're sure we'll all remember;

new year's day belongs to you now

In this season of far-too-high expectations,

of forced and lost connections, we spend 

a manic, melancholy month pretending 

we're not preparing to say goodbye

Yours an annual, never-ending wake; 

established to ensure that our attention 

follow you into your version of the ever-after 

Was that what you intended? 

You appear before me, mute;

unable to share that you watch us 

as we battle our assigned roles, 

uneasy, but familiar 

I sense the discontent and restless ache

for your child bride and sons; 

victim, reluctant saint, and unlikely protege

still lost - unseen - in pursuit of 

what they think you think mattered 

I remain the fighter, 

weary with all the work left to do;

I serve as the one who sifts 

through all that you endured 

but never meant to pass on, 

the abuse, neglect and loss 

tangled in our threaded DNA 

Each year I understand more

what I can't fail to remember;

your path just one step away from,

mine one step more towards 

Father, I hear you -  

words are not necessary 

Your legacy becomes my 

try-and-try-again purpose 

to be all that you could not 

I read your lips -      

"forgiveness, humility,  

honesty, compassion," 

say goodbye, renewed

All That Wasn't

forever, together
you grace my hall

mother and daughter;
the ancient pain captured,
a reckless lens

her olive skin, charcoal skirt, wool beret,
dark as the black-shadowed porch,
play negative to the light of you;
a ruffled white cotton pinafore,
blond curls, pale skin,
bright patent shoes

your sad pose betrays,
arms, elbows, knees in tight;
her slender finger
grazes your shoulder,
an uncertain reflex
tenuous claim

chin down, her turned head
smiles shy with sorrow;
lips pinch, brows furrow,
your focus on a mystery, distant

beside you, a sidewalk beckons;
late fall trees expose an exit,
foreshadow hers, too early

this faded snapshot a
record of all you
do and do not know

It Has to be Enough

She wears scars visible;
her tattoed heart-on-sleeve
inaccessible, in spite of

she maintains
distance, physical
and otherwise;
the intimate us
breathes in text
transmitted by
an unseen,
ghostly wire

I throw myself at her
to pull her to a safer self;
like a life buoy, I do
more harm than intended

To meet seems dangerous;
I wait to for an invitation
and wonder who cornered whom

she talks a round of talk;
I navigate the untangling,
direct us, spiral down to
a black-muck rotten bottom
we somewhat share

her trust has its limits;
I stay when she asks
and leave when she doesn't

Heather Reed 2011