Tuesday, May 14, 2013

pink and blue

pink with sketchy ballerinas
not quite like this but close enough
the wall paper
I remember 2 windows with blinds
and swiss dot Pricilla curtains?
two beds and dressers
and hardwood floors.
I never spent much time in there.
this was my sisters' room.
they fought and whispered and shared
and dreamed and read in their room
together for years.
one was sloppy and one was neat.
they had boundary wars and traded clothes
I had my own room.
blue roses covered the walls that were around the seven windows.
I had to go through my little brothers' room to get in or out of it.
he would sing me to sleep at night sometimes.
whenever I approached the pink room
there were screams from within to GET OUT!
if I tried to borrow clothes, I heard,
you're too fat! you'll stretch them out! go away! Mom!
funny the things we remember.
they are still close today in their fifties.
even though one lives in france.
they have a history together that binds them.
I was told I was almost a twin, but the other sack was empty.
I think I've been lonely ever since.

Saturday, May 4, 2013


the wind is moaning through the crack in the window
the wind wants to push in
it sounds mad.
i'm 2 days away from being half way there.
I wake up in the morning now,
anticipating the battle i'll have with my tongue.
that ornery little bugger pretends like
it has everything to do with my wellbeing.
God gave us a tongue to taste and to give thanks
but mine wants more always wants more.
it's wearing me out
all this discipline.
I paint.
my paint brush is like my tongue.
i'm trying to keep it in the lines.
i'm trying to make it do things I tell it to do.
but it wants to go somewhere else.
never satisfied. always comparing.
i'd rather be painting this, it says.
I wish I could paint that it says.
sometimes I just have to walk away.
I just want to be myself.
and i'm tired of the world telling me I need to be afraid.
afraid to eat
afraid to paint
afraid of muslims
afraid of guns
afraid of religion
afraid of homosexuals
afraid of republicans
afraid of taxes
afraid of each other
the wind moans with me.
it sounds mad,
but actually
it's just the world turning really fast.