(All writing published here is owned by me unless cited otherwise.)
"it lay in my palm soft and trembled
as a new bird and i thought about
authority and how it always insisted
on itself, how it was master
of the man, how it measured him, never
was ignored or denied, and how it promised
there would be sweetness if it was obeyed
just like the saints do, like the angels
and i opened the window and held out my
uncupped hand; i swear to god
i thought it could fly”
- Lorena, by Lucille Clifton
Born with the moon in Cancer
Choose her a name she will answer to
Call her green and the winters cannot fade her
Call her green for the children who have meade her
Little green, be a gypsy dancer.
He went to California
Hearing that everything’s warmer there
So you write him and letter and say, “Her eyes are blue.”
He sends you a poem and she’s lost to you
Little green, he’s a non-conformer.
Just a little green
Like the color when the spring is born
There’ll be crocuses to bring to school tomorrow
Just a little green
Like the nights when the Northern lights perform
There’ll be icicles and birthday clothes
And sometimes there’ll be sorrow.
Somewhere under a warm fresh bruise
somewhere under new soil
I don’t know where but it was there
and when I… found it I found ecstasy
and that was pain hot and severe on my tongue
way back behind my eyes
high up in the bridge of my nose
and I came undone and
there it was not silly but ridiculous and found
and you did not know who I was.
I mean you looked at me over your shoulder with this half hearted condescension and said said to me You’re Lost.
but all I’ve lost is my mother’s pale blue years
I mean what am I without those.
Before, you told me: Watch out for the relapse
we’re going so fast you might fall down all at once.
I did I did and you know what you did then:
Me lying naked and lost and proud and undone, completely
undone you tore me in half you tore me in two.
Often, you call me up in the morning as soon as you’re awake and you say hey how are you did you sleep well when can I pick you up wear those shorts with the buttons please for me?
And I laugh and feel light about you and I say hey give me forty minutes I need a shower
But you say no sweetheart just take a shower with me
So i see you seven minutes later, long enough for mascara and clean underwear and I’m brushing my hair with my fingers in your car and you’re waiting for me to finish so you can hold my hand while you speed around the most dangerous turn, one hand on the wheel if I’m lucky.
And there are some days these things happen and I am in love
But there are others I am an angry claustrophobic drunk and I feel sick to look at you.
Those days when I get into your car and kiss you, it is out of habit only. Those days I hate myself and you and the stuck I am feeling
The neurosis between the slant-eyed impulse to escape and the ache of injury to you.
I settle for emotional distance only and close my eyes early
face turned on instinct to the window.
I don’t know what you’re feeling, I tune you out and my volcano insides harden in that hostility
But I wake up curled around your body like a baby afraid of being dropped.
Because It’s everyday I feel alone
in another layer of the atmosphere
if both of your hands,
all of your fingers
are not on me,
In the green morning
I wanted to be a heart.
And in the ripe evening
I wanted to be a nightingale.
turn the color of love.)
In the vivid morning
I wanted to be myself.
And at the evening’s end
I wanted to be my voice.
turn the color of love.
Federico García Lorca
Ditty of First Desire