This
is my non-love poetry. They're kind of in random order, all written
between college and now. I won't torture you with my high school poetry.
*g* Keep checking back, because I swear I'll eventually put more up...
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Mistaken
Identity
Every morning I wake up,
And you are there.
Not the secret sharer of my life,
As a lover might be,
But the blatantly obvious one.
You wear my face as your own, so like me that
Even I wonder which one I am.
We've shared much over the years--
So much that it has become too much.
Never a moment's rest from you.
Never a moment that I could call
My own.
You are my other half, though if better,
I couldn't say.
Because the world sees us as
So much alike,
That I can't see the dividing line
Between us.
And although I love you more than life,
Sometimes I dream of waking up one morning,
A single birth, with a single identity.
Room to discover who I am, Alone.
not having to wonder if I was you,
Or if you were me.
--Spring 1997
(for patty)
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Discount
Fish
This bothers me
You are discount fish
flawed pets
offered at half-price
Because you aren't perfect
Whole
Wanted
You are wholesale pets
Wal-mart fish
Sold in bulk at
low prices to
white trash
poor fish
Retarded
rejected
Unloved fish
I would take you all home
but I have no money.
--26 April 1999
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Wholesale
Pets: A Companion to Discount Fish
Wholesale Animals
cheap pets
Sold at Mass quantity
low pricess
Are perfectly servicable:
color and style may vary.
Some minor
(unnoticable)
defects.
Wholesale Pets--
right next door to
Discount Fish.
-- 11 June, 1999
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Tea Time
When you were
small,
the tea cups were tiny tiny--
doll-sized and perfect
for tea with Samantha, Piglet,
and Cinnamon the Kitten in his bonnet.
We sat at the little round table,
just us three,
and sipped our
hot milk
sugar, and
a little bit of lemon.
You were five and six-
little girls, dark eyes
two blond heads bent over
tiny cups of tea.
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 As
you got older,
the teacups grew
and grew
til your knees wouldn't fit
under the little round table.
Til Cinnamon clawed
his bonnet to shreds,
and Piglet's stuffing
was loved to pieces.
Until you were twice as old,
no more round baby faces,
long legs.
Samantha and Piglet sit alone
at the little round table.
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Now we sit
at the kitchen counter
big mugs of Earl Grey,
or English Breakfast Tea.
Milk, you ask.
And sugar please, I say.
Instead of doll gossip and
kitten fashion talk,
It's sixth grade,
and he kissed her,
and oh, you know,
my husband, that big movie star?
You both fight over
who gets to marry him.
And I sit and smile,
remembering two little girls
who had been,
and wonder about the two woman
who will be.
And if Cinnamon and I
will still be invited
every Saturday evening for tea.
--7 April, 1999
(for Erin and Laura)
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Selkie:
A Sestina
 She
stands at the edge of the sea,
The salt spray mingling with the tears
That slip down her pale face.
Her dark curls whip like seals in the waves,
And the wind cries the name of her lover.
The waning woman waits for her selkie.
With the velvet
grace of the selkie,
He pulled himself from the cold north sea.
Searching the isles for a mortal lover,
A maid with the salty blood of sea, of tears,
He had found her, at the edge of the waves,
Child of the isles wearing longing on her face.
The sun shone
from her star-pale face
When she first saw the lithe selkie.
Their bodies made love in the waves,
Dancing like two seals, born to the sea.
But with his last kiss, her face fell with tears
As the sea reclaimed her seal-born lover.
And still
she waits for her selkie-lover,
Searching the sea’s breadth for his face.
The sea grows saltier with each tear,
As her stomach waves with the son of the selkie.
Her lesson is that what is given by the sea
Is always stolen back by the waves.
Night and
day advance and retreat in waves.
She watches, but sees no sight of her lover.
All that stretches before her is endless sea:
Only breechless gray, not the loved face;
Only mortal seals, not seal-man selkie.
No kiss, no moon loving—only seaborn tears.
As her belly
thickens, all she sees are tears.
The babe quickens with the sound of waves.
Her son already bears the heart of a selkie—
The half-seal child will follow his mother’s lover,
For the babe will wear more than his father’s face,
And his mother will haunt the edge of the sea.
Mad with the
loss of her selkie, her lover,
As the tears blind with the rage of the waves,
With star-pale face, she gives her life and child to the sea.
--16 November, 1998
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Open the Way
I know you're
still far away
The time's not right
The way's not open
I'm still chasing my shadow
Over and under the hill
But it's lonely here
And my bed is cold
Dreams don't keep warmth
Like your fire will
Fate can't
be rushed
And pleading does no good
But I can hope
That your fey light
Your bubbles and laughter
Your effervescence
Will find me soon.
And deliver me from the darkness.
Hurry.
Godspeed.
And wind to your winged feet.
--30 January, 2000
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Starlight, Starbright
Starlight,
starbright
Standing at my window
Each night wondering
If you're looking back
How far you are
If you wonder
What happened to me
 I
don't trace my face
In the window anymore
Pretending that it's you
I just hope that someday
You'll send me a message
"Honey, we're safe,
We made it,
We'll pick you up at four."
It doesn't matter
How late it is
I just want to make sure
That you love me
And that you're okay.
--December 1999
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