Rain Stick Serenades

I lie in bed

and listen

to the pain falling

down my shattered spine

in rain stick serenades

and sober regrets,

asynchronous time

and crescendoes that sing

notes of memories

that become warnings

to heed

when the fire dies down,

when the days warm,

and these bones heal

once more

~ Em C. 12.22.18

*the type of poem one writes when they’ve severely jacked up their neck and back, like me…lying supine listening to rain and pain.

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Walking in an upside down world

walking in an upside down world

deceptive calm before the storm

pregnant sky’s belly roiling

the fish seek their holes

.

time chokes on repeat

a skip in the record of space

passing smiles born to defeat

feet run a going-nowhere pace

.

tick but no tock

wait until it opens wide

catching on the devil’s hook

nowhere to run,
nowhere to hide

~ Em C. 12.14.18

 

{photo by me}

Retrospective

retrospective gazing
at a life’s night that lost
itself in parchment phases,
my head

turned your memory
into wormhole scrapbooks
mocking long-lost destiny,
lessons learned one-by-one
in glue stick plastering,
mapping glossy mistakes
in page-numbered time,

the cold sorcery of pictures
posted in behind-the-back
finger-crossing finery,
dressing up camera ready
fragile smiles
with never-to-be dreams,
soon cracked to shattered bits
by the hammer
of reality

~ Emily C.
12.8.18

What Horrors or Beauty

Water welcomes wayward soul
     beckons with its siren song
          holds secrets in dark depths below
undiscovered stories expired universes ago

Toes in travelled shoes tempt fate
     having walked along river’s bending banks
        into grass damp with spring’s new birth
feeling nothing urgent in moment’s blush breath

Pausing for a pondered thought
     when elusive thoughts have flown far fraught
          willing ink to spill from pens long abandoned
grasping words that slip from trembling hands

To peel off garments, to dive within…
     what horrors or beauty wait for me here?
          for one a near brother to the stark other;

safety on sand banks,
or truth naked and free?

~ Emily C. 
3.19.18

Black Stains

with onset of waking night
i wait for hint of sight
by filtered moonlight
to see

to see you standing here
before me with ruffled hair
in tortured resignation
to passion’s sticky sweet lure

my body’s frame
carves black stains
in wooden walls’ cracks

contorted reality
speaking fantasy
in curves contained by facts

of doors we closed then opened
clear windows we cleaned then broke
mirrors we shattered that showed
the truth

the truth of us
the truth of our love
this sickness of wanting more

uncured, i beg

feverish, i quiver

starved,

i welcome you

~ Em C. ~

3.7.18

Imprints

the smell of lovers stains her hands
as sweet woodsmoke,

lingers
in waking dreams

she drifts

along tides left by the leavers
who yanked anchors and swam

heads lost bob
on distant window horizon

the faceless gray nameless
destined for a cursed never

caught in swirling whirlpool
cycling like moon, they come,

they go — she stays —

treading in the bedding
her hands companions,

the lamplight sun casts shadows
in foothill creases of sheets

ironed there by bodies bare,
tattooed imprint on her skin

reminders

where two once were, one

— one is now none

~ Em ~

2.4.18

Hear Me Go

eyes closed indefinitely

candle flicker remains

moving through reality

blinded by silent pain

slowest fight imaginable

quiet like the mouse

no one within a radius

of 100 miles round

breathing with the fire

in lungs drown by air

taking steps in increments

without moving anywhere

alone in moments unnoticed

days go by in hiding

no one knows i’m naked

no one knows i’m dressed

if i stepped outside today

if i said hello

if i choked on a pill

no one would hear me go

~ Em ~

2.3.18