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Tracey Gunne - 2


        If so. Then it shall be.


Fractured, yes. Moving still as the
blood we encompass. Sweet,
 so sweet. A sliver of a life
considered ordinary and
preordained.

The beauty we as newborns took
for granted. By the grace of
a mother who abused the power
given. She slept through it all.
Tears

soiling the newly washed flowers.
If so in childhood. Then it shall be 
as working soldiers. Lovers
placing tongues inside the
dangerous

ravines of sin. Or is it love. And
now impatient with the hungry 
cries. How was it missed. The
same house rebuilt. The same bed

slept in. The same flowers rinsed
of everything but the beginning.
​

the blue cedars we ignored

you stumbled dark onto the arbitrary surface
of my heart's grave. deep in the woods buried. 
all the unloved and brittle bones. 
i assumed forever meant a willingness to betray 
the necessary. no longer steady in the black and white. 
submerged beneath the divided shelter 
of your hands. the half moon frostbitten tips 
of spring form bruises out of love. but never in. 
summer's lust leaves us barren 
with branches tense. the rough bark undressed and
ready for the sensation of a single breath. the autumn 
wind a reminder. a somewhat forgiving truth 
in this never ever land. love is fiercer than 
two souls combined. the blue cedars we ignored 
fondly confirm a lack thereof. love is the downward 
spiral of a sky falling through our seasonal essence. 
our infinite and intimate core.

where winter left us cold, waiting.
​

Single Mother

She offered us
the sweetest intentions
inanimate smiles painted on
with dark blue frosting
filling our days
with empty homecomings
and a fear of being
left behind

We learned the same needs
for the binding touch
of a chaotic love
where celibate nights cradled us
from the free fall
of unforeseen winds

She wanted us to consider
the happiness found
in a sequestered heart
but all we longed for
was to be cherished like
the photograph hidden

instead of prayers she listed
all of our goodbyes
​

Goodbye Letter To My Daughter

protected in my silence you leave
and I can no longer reach
kiss your eyelids goodnight

remember
all the days spent lost and searching
memories of water falling
gathered at the lowest point
where everything ends uncertain
the sunny corner you hollowed out
the unveiling of
wet sand, shells
broken and the smallest
piece of glass

now,
in a room you paint white
sunlight reflects summer
poured into bottles
memories
on your skin, soft blue and gold

this could be an apology
all I can offer is all that I am
and was
a story you learned but were never told

inheritance of past mistakes

knowledge that a heart
incandescent in the moonlight

can be strong enough

​                            (for DunkaSun)


Careful Soldiers

We do not wear 
hearts on sleeve
they are protected 
in armored bags
crisscrossed like 
the promises we made
guarded by 
sealed purple lips
and costumes 
sewn with flesh

I will be you
you be me

morning nostalgia

left too long the longings remain damp
but fertile secrets kept 
beneath the cup overflowing
laced with sugar bittersweet half-moon
stains on the parchment wherein lies
some boy you loved
his moods shifting with the grey touch

of the weeping willow that provided only shade for one
​
Picture

Tracey Gunne's profile
Go to page 1 of Tracey Gunne's poetry

Dark Sky Reserve

I am moon to your jupiter
venus to your sun
your glass eye reveals only
what you need to see
like how
the milky way is a dimly lit
and intricate
labyrinth of resurrections
and how
the nebula of my torso
hides a nursery of stars

so if I kissed you
in every dimension and
every galaxy leads to forever
could our love
be the universe
​

Swallowing Spiders in Your Sleep


well, lover, your fears
although irrational
are charming
the misery you imagined hiding
now travels closer
dents in the pillowcase, tickle on your nose
all evidence of my nocturnal wanderings
weaving past desires through eyelash
in spiral orbs of silk perversions
I will leave eight reasons on your skin
eight synonyms for love
every vibration will lead me crawling
inside your perfectly round opening

a darkness so lovely
​

                      complicated orange

you offer testament in open fields forcing me into the still unknown where 
the charitable orange of a breaking dawn betrayed my hopeful heart 
bound by common tragedy i stepped into your open palm bravely 
to atone for my congregation of sins 
all the times you fucked up smiling through imagined grievances still 
your hands remind me of a complicated garden where 
all my words are smothered by the depleted earth 
exposing me as a flower inlove with the sun 
even as it decays a beauty reminiscent and unraveling in the vines 

even as petals fall a bitter orange
​

Triggers

approaching black shadow of a
memory rises with the warning of
impending storm clouds encircling
as the weak search for shelter in 
the rafters decaying...

so simple really
rain on the roof forcing us
to stay inside
a shallow pool of tears form
surround the heart
quiet waters whisper 

to the crescent lobe
of lunar cycles and a child
who once dreamed wings rested
softly on her shoulders

and i realize i never left 
that moonlit porch
or the lake that tried to drown me

Autumn Promise

Bold and full of love I took you deep
into the forest where the trail 
ends and begins
crimson leaves crushed 
beneath our hopeful yearnings
you were guided by the fear
of being lost or rather
never being found but I
led you down this path
many times before
and always chose to love you

Late October means we are alone
and the only sounds are
your heart beating unsure and
your breath burdened
with a memory of her as you stumble
over moss, ferns, not aware how safe
in my footsteps if you will follow
the river to where it falls

Hydrangea

after everything has fallen
the delicate blue and the insufficient white
torn apart by the cloud's tears
and mangled by a deceiving breath 

after beauty has come and gone
to be placed in a crystal vase
forgetting the warmth of mother's touch

and left to die alone

Imaging of Interior Structure

​So hard to imagine
these thin white lines are bones
and these crazy shapes
eloquent as shadow on water
will be arms I will hold
and eyelids I will kiss
and a heart I will know

After six months I feel you
move inside, touching all
the dark corners you created

At first I dreamed you
some kind of nymph
weaving veins
moving patiently like a spider
building yourself a temporary home
and I wondered if you were scared
in the loneliness of my womb
your hands
pressed against some invisible light

like tiny stars
​
Go to page 1 of Tracey Gunne's poetry

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