I am sick of sound--

I am sick of sound

     screaming children

     pounding feet

     foolish quarrels.

I would like

to bury my head in a stone

and drink up a thousand silent years.

2/15/00

(I had an older brother who, like most oldest children didn't get along with my parents. Two younger and very noisy brothers and a sister with a voice like a soprano trying to sing over a fire engine. Srsly Anne, you were a shrieker.)

Garden Plans

I would have redbud
Wisteria
Chinaberry
Flowered and scented
No smooth green lawns
No clipped hedges
Everything wild and growing
Iris and roses
Wildflowers
Vegetables – full and good in the sun

(This was actually a list of ideas and things for a future garden. But then I realized it had a nice ring and poked it a little...)

Closets

There are closets in my mind
I’ve locked a lot of things in them.
Old hurts, past dreams
Quite a few people
I’m opening them one by one
I sweep out the skeletons and brush away the dust
They’re empty now
Only the dry stench of bones still clings

(Yes, bones do smell. At least old animal ones do. Trust me on this.)

Wild Garlic

Wild garlic
Crushed
Beneath my feet and fingers.
Summer is here,
Hot sleepy days
Blue sky blazing
I ache with desire for the summer.

Sleeping Beauty

Sleeping Beauty, lying fair
upon your bed, atop your stair
did you really want a kiss?
did you long for wedded bliss?

or did you wish that you could say
“Beat it prince, scram, go away”
and climbing on your marriage bed
sleep for eternity instead.


(This, on the other hand, I definitely remember writing. I was in college, taking a full load of classes, working three jobs, and I was SO TIRED.)

Reader and the Pea

It’s piled up

A thousand mattresses high

If you remove them all and find the pea

It’s hardly worth it

I, personally, would rather bounce

Higher and higher still

Off of the mattress pile

 (it’s only refuse and frosting)

and land rejoicing in a bin of peas

(I have absolutely no recollection of writing this. None at all.)

Enigma

enigma you are

your hair like a blossom

your face like a star

walking in a queer

apologetic

way as if you begged

of other passersby

the right to breathe

5/14/00