Darren C. Demaree

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Their Human Voice

There is a raging
bride in each
of my children

& though they
are sweet, kind
& loving, they want,

god dammit, they want
all of the bees
to bring them honey

& they want the lions
to protect them
& they want 

to scream again into
a new world
where an ocean

carries them home
when they are done
on the beach.

I hear all of that 
rattle inside of them
when they tell me

that they love me.
I am proud
they know 

of a good life,
that way it will
really burn them up

when the nature
of all things
comes calling.
​

Glass Box

We put the incredible
in the glass box,
because we knew
 
it would be so much fun
to shatter it on the driveway.
Did you hear it?

Flood

We cannot keep our children
in houses, in measured spaces
with neighbors they understand
 
when any piano they hear
playing is also being used
as a seesaw.  The randomness
 
is a grant to destroy sovereignty.
The silence between the notes
is more than jazz.  The world
 
is defiant strips we use
to be devilish with.  The water
isn’t coming.  The water is here
 
& every measured moment
is spent beneath the tide.
Fear is repeatedly saying no.
​

​Darren C. Demaree's profile

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Introducing Cliffs

My children fall down
gently. Even on sidewalks,
the scrapes to cuts

& the blood that follows,
there is hardly any scarring.
My children fall down

gently. Even in waves
they are delivered
to the beach. My children

fall down gently. So,
when the bodies of other
children are on the news

I do not change the channel,
when they talk about death
& it’s not the death

of our beloved cat, I leave
the volume high. I will not
frighten my children,

but I cannot stop them
from forming the questions,
from looking at abyss

& feeling that they could
fall forever from that cliff.
I’ve taught them safety.

I preached some caution.
I’ve let them hear about
the amount of blood

in the American ocean.
My children fall down
gently. I say it out loud

so that I can hear it
when my worst fears
creep in from the wind.
​

Stars & Apples

We find the victims
in time.  We find our
other lovers outside
of the discovering
of mortality.  Life is.
​

A Note on Light Rain

Somebody told Isabelle
that God was in the rain
& I told her to wait

for a good storm before
she decided if God
had inhabited such flying

waters. We’ll go out together
& I’ll catch the tree limbs 
that aim to collect her chest.
​

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