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

Lucky

last night ended later than intended
as we talked in abstracts
of our longer, slower walk
through self-planted land mines

acknowledged egoic needs,
insecurities, petty competition;
all of the sad, mistaken loss

tethered to the lead
of a winding self-imposed
need for safety, our fears
as well-fingered as a
remembered blanket’s
satin-frayed edge

our conversations
erode the old stories,
purge pain with every word
spit like soot from our souls

shared, it dissolves into
an atmosphere cleansed
by an understanding of;
our familiar, similar selves
aligned and connected

we are lucky we have us

I'd Rather Live Like

we do not go days

without words

ours an immediate,

spontaneous combustion

fueled by rubbish from

internal basements

the windows are open;

our neighbors hear,

we wrestle on
shamelessly, inevitably

rage rests painful
in our throats, our
anger a shift in plates

that can no longer

bear the strain

we push into it,
armed, fierce;
our separate truths
skewed, accurate,
faulty, telling

we emerge
spent warriors
who seek peace

washed clean;
reconcilled,
unshakeable

Succubus

she made love like a scientist
lowering hips on pulleys
strung with words and alcohol

right there, baby
she busied you

examined every pock scar,
freckle, flecked iris,
traced ballpoint-lettered l-o-v-e
spelled across knuckles
indifferent to the word

fingers kneaded flesh, begging
her hot breath like ether,
thighs a silken vise;
she took her samples

she entered through skin,
topical on your tongue
two days later

Dreaming on Flu Meds

again, with you

my subconscious
intoxicated, trapped
in a late-night, corner booth

allowed, inserted
between you and an
other of indistinct face

(have I been
so easily replaced)

you are an ancient, 

like the ripped vinyl 

jagged and sticky

the naked, barest bits 

suffer as my 

awkward self escapes 

all the reluctant agony 

cries me to wake;
I do battle with
tangled, weeping sheets

Her Survival

she will not ask

hers a breath trapped; 

the remnants of a girl

threadbare at the 

bottom of a sagging, 

weary bag worn thin 

on the stairs at 3 am; 

an adult understanding

of her prepubsecent

dependence kept her 

in her mind, running 

into the dark street, 

towards another 

circumstance 

pleading with no one 

to flee the breakdowns, 

instability of fear, 

disintegration of 

all she had trusted 

do not deny her 

the necessary fences; 

erected before they 

could argue

she will not easily 

let them fall; 

hers, survival