Burning Again

It's been long enough, I think, since I’ve been consistent on here. I'd really like to be consistent in more things. For example:

•  Getting up in the mornings to read and stretch and move before the Goobers get up.

• Looking at the stars, especially when the moon is huge and round to hang out with too.

• Vacuuming.

Just to mention a few.

Also, to write here every Tuesday like I did before this. So I offer you some lovelies to get things burning again:

Same Thing

I laughed because I didn't know what else to do.

Really I was squirming inside my skin.

Kicking and screaming inside my stretchy skin.

He touched my skin with strange hands,

and he kissed my skin with strange lips.

A stranger to me --

I had never seen him before.

A stranger to him --

he didn't ask who I was, who I am,

just assumed he'd make me feel full?

I wish he wouldn't have touched me.

I wish he wouldn't have kissed me.

I wish he wouldn't have assumed anything.

No. I wish I wouldn't have laughed.

Two women stood witness.

Their eyes --

I wish I could have disapeared into their round.

Now when women laugh, I try to really listen.

If they need them,

I try to offer my eyes.

Hollow places where they can be swallowed,

just for the moment, if they so wish it.

Sometimes, when people make that face,

I can't tell if they are laughing or crying.

Sometimes, maybe it's the same thing.

________________________________________________

The Game

I know what you want me to say,

so I'll say it,

because I don't want to see you again.

I know what you don't want me to say,

so I won't,

because I don't want to see you again.

I know the game.

I know the face you want me to wear.

You put your feet up on the chair.

In China that gesture is offensive.

I wear Chinese symbols for a reason.

But I'm in debt to you,

so it doesn't matter what I want you to do,

and it doesn't matter what I wear for me.

I will not wear my own face in front of you.

You don't want me to.

I know your game,

and I play it,

because I never want to see you again.

 ________________________________________________

 Hide and Seek

Pearls yearn.

We're born of sperm.

We sit and squirm.

What questions are okay to ask?

To think, and then say out loud?

For you I burn.

But that's not a question.

Is it?

What lays inside,

yearning to come out?

Where do we look --

awkward --

when those questions come out?

You wrap your shells around me

and I am safe on your soft tongue.

From them I come.

For you I hum.

And when I'm ready,

I will be said out loud.

Ready or not,

I'm going to open my eyes.

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