Tracey Gunne
EfflorescenceAutumn~
you send white roses is that how you want me pure and void of any color or scent lackluster but with a hint of danger my hands tied indebted only to you Winter~ you bring orchids a plant hungering for crushed bone decaying flesh. all the pieces of me i hoped were dead and gone now potted and pruned wilting in your adoration if you choose to stay find comfort in my madness it could take years to hollow me out separate me from this mildewed heart Spring~ you nourish the soil manipulate sunshine and raindrops to do your bidding scatter seeds in casual disarray forth and back the wind hazardous for the love protruding not so firmly rooted even though you tend with faithful hands weeds advance and blossom more dense between my thighs softened by touch and moist where your scent lingers heavy Summer~ you plant violets there is nothing here to ground me only you the holes you dig are small but necessary a garden cultivated by my purple moods releasing soft lobes of petals falling on what you perceive as beautiful Moon RipenedThere were too many drafts
in that cottage by the lake doors kept slamming in your head you swam naked in the evenings past the shallow waters closer to the deep end where the moon's light glazed over creases in your skin I stayed on shore still warm with the sun's impending kisses Once a week the mail came we walked barefoot on the gravel path to greet him then when darkness fell your invitation he held in open palm warm and sticky I was too old to lean against his knee on the front porch And I knew he was too old to notice more than he should have the soft release of the oppressive breeze when my shirt surrendered His spirited voice whispering in my ear sounded like waves crashing as my body receded That entire summer you chased bats in the rafters with your bare hands the moon ripened flesh openly exposed Solar Eclipse
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You. Or maybe it was me...I believe in everything and in nothing
that everything happens for a reason i believe in a god who dances with archaic movement bathing in the light of the sun or the moon it doesn't matter anyhow because forever ended yesterday and now resides in charming photographs your hand resting awkwardly in the black and white You or maybe it was me built bridges with evasive intent it doesn't matter anyhow if innocence or obsession caused the heavy load to crash into every tomorrow and bear witness to the sweet nectar of juices dripping inside the honeycomb an octagonal room you entered unscathed through the sharp edges Hearing babies wanting to be held and grass whispering to be mowed it was bitter circumstance that kept you here not the unstable corners or lack of windows and it was never me i have loved only once or maybe it was twice with sporadic breath and an affirmation of silence pending I asked you to resuscitate your words so they could lay a path for the stars to map create an effervescent cluster above the untended baby lost in the tall grass but do not blame the stars or assume they care which direction After everyone leftyou searched for me
in the backyard the cellar door open but not all the way did I try to leave? hiding from the words you offered after too much wine if only I'd given you my heart to wear or carry in your pocket then allowed you to bury what remained beneath the willow tree where the dandelion, red clover will hold our secrets Growing Up On Our StreetYou captivated my lonely days
by painting white lines we were meant to jump into and through your hair hanging loose and always longer than mine you were delicate like the hand me down socks your mother kept forgetting to mend she was too busy cooking Sunday night dinners where she'd serve herself last so I thought it would be you who'd need saving but in the end it was me my dad outside at 2 am screaming at the trees to stop dancing as my mother tried to capture him like a frightened bird Your house was safer for sleepovers we'd spread pillows on the cold floor the secrets you whispered were stories I already knew but I loved how safe it felt as we tucked ourselves in and how you pretended to believe all the lies I wanted to be true and how you hid a flashlight in case the darkness made me dizzy I remember wanting to touch the soft skin behind your ear after you fell asleep without me and wondered if anyone else could be willing to love you more We are mothers now to daughters who we teach to be brave to walk away from men who run mad into the dark streets We remember to tuck them in We remember to mend But Love Is Not So Prettythere could be blood
gushing from the seams of yesterday's wound the expected attempt to desecrate shipwrecked in the idea that love is beautiful we must shift beyond these guarded moments of euphoria and penetrate deeper peel back my skin kiss my bones reach for something hideously sincere the hands we were dealt preciously retrieving |
