Death of a Calla Lily

Build a Home In Me

You wait till the body is cold to bury it

Before you vacate 

The home you built in me 

remember

How I ended up in the ground

I met my death at dawn

And as the sun rose on a body

Marked by the desolation of a lover

I admired the calla lilies once 

promised rapture of a first kiss

That now mirrors the last in lust

I observed every call 

Like the dew of grass

Never misses morning 

I took nightmares into daybreak 

To not disturb the sleep of what

It meant to dream with you

I emptied my lungs

as if my breath was the only

thing that keeps you alive

As I walk on broken prayer I notice a glowing calla lily. Dawn barely peaking over the horizon in this valleyed forest, the peak behind me. Here like a deathbed reminder of a broken heart that doesn’t know how to be buried. 

Dew

Lapping of waves over my frozen toes

tells me to not move for a few more minutes.

A soft, salty, breeze begs me to wait.

To sit in the disquiet of anger and let 

God wash away again the grief.

My sweet-tooth for revenge 

like fog that can't be contained.

But I am shushed between prayers

reminded to let the dew

breach from the eyes.

My throat hums in the 

icy pain of cold water. 

It stays there

like an unrequited sob.

Who don’t I want to hear?

It was raining and the mountains called my name. 3 am and I was the only soul around a trailhead. Walking into the darkness to see the creatures of the night walk with me. The birds waking with muddled jumps and the deer who stops in the trail to survey me; my worthiness. I feel bare when the mist of morning kisses my face to say hello. I feel quiter and smaller than ever to know I could never give the world that same affection or love.

I Begged a Kiss of Emerald Green

never knowing your voice again

I will never hear you 

Whisper my name 

Or fill your touch in the middle of my chest 

Searching for the heart, you left in me 

Moss hugs the trunk of a tree

And I lightly press my palm

Listening for a heartbeat 

Closest to yours

Dawns mist plays with my hair, curling it behind my neck

I stand here, feeling a shiver up my sleeves 

I close my eyes and lean forward 

As if you’re there to catch me 

And beg you for a kiss of emerald  green

Where the spiders go

From end to end a web

off the hiker's path.

A spiders’s promise from last night 

that they will wake this morning.

But this web

abandoned,

has no one to call it home