While I Contimplate Your Sanity

when we saw of each other, i figured we lied

and that was the first thing that struck me as right.

 

the thing I’ve begun to ask is

what’s the truth behind your word is?

 

and all of this

which is

 

you lying

and me smiling

like a child.

 

what classifies a fib?

charm glib?

 

well

I’m beginning to tell

and boy, is it swell.

 

you have me like a butterfly

I’m stuck and I just need to try

 

it’s under the rocks that I sweat

it’s in the dirt I start to forget,

 

but you

sleek, smooth

powder proof

and gold tooth

 

that smile is like a slate

being drawn upon the grate

slowly un-knotting me

 

slowly

 

till

that  lie

seems  just right.

Copyright 2014 Golden Star Poetry

 

 

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Under the Foam

You, on the back porch,

smelling like soap.

I have been married to you for fourteen years.

I am all stain, all hush, all quiet and mussed.

I never hurt you

because I was faithful.

I held god’s hand through your pockets

Like a dreamer,

and I drifted like sand.

On the beach

your eyes will play a darting maneuver,

the fierce crashing against rocks  like the sea waves to shore

closing into a submissive

hush.

Like a sorcerer, the sea splits.

All too soon I’m watering up,

but your hands are suddenly closing

and for defense, you say

“What did I do?

What the hell did I do?”

Some smile!

Some Mistake!

Some Apology!

Some rough Explanation!

This feels like mud

This night feels like wind

against the stifling bed sheet,

and I’m dreaming of you

tasting the salt of you,

licking my lips to dive under the foam.

 

The lamp turns off

The lamp turns on.

Who are you?

 

DISCLAIMER-

I hope you like a busty woman

because that’s who I am.

The sides of my hips

grow to the edge of the blankets.

I am bloated with weeds,

with gross, sickly weeds.

At first, though, I was a garden-

touched, then untouched.

The first day that I met you, you were by the stables, laughing.

You were made of muscles,

then mouths,

then lastly eyes, filled with stern

competition.

“Might we duel? Me seeking you?

Seeking the sun? Seeking the old green devil?”

I wonder where you came from…

 

I bustle, and my new dress sparkles.

I bustle, and wear it till worn.

And the sequins fall like shards of glass (MAZAL TOV!)

And the sequins fly, sworn off like a swarm of bees

and I know that I am she, in the sunlit beach

smashing a seashell.

I thought I was laughing at our life,

or, what I thought it was.

Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry.