Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Someone Knows this Dance

The woman in the turquoise dress
she was baptized in scrubbing
the front steps.

She's caught
a heart in a bug net
made of bent hangers
and fishnet stockings.

Buying half priced
seed and wooing
trinkets for the butterfly
garden she tends.

The glass bird sings
too fragile for this wind.

You've really got to belt it out in Nebraska because that wind carries what you say and drops it one state over and by then it's too late.  He's gone.

And, anyway Honey, that ain't dust.  That's gold.  When are you going to tell your story?  It's some fighting thing inside you that keeps the words from drowning in your own ink.  You'd better tell it to God.  That's what I'm saying.

Oh, listen.  How long
till I know how?
Long time since I let myself
go.  Long time gone.
Who's going to call
that child back in for supper?

I'm hungry, too.


  1. In some weird way, I feel like I understand this and I like it. We all have a story that needs telling and yours is hidden somewhere in here. Thank you for sharing :)

  2. I'd like to hear the stories behind these stories. It makes me want more.