The Ballerina God

A window to the city streets
She reached into the cold and dark
She drenched her slender arms in snow

Her diamond eyes shined, apropos
Of hunger calculating, stark
The dancer calmed her body heat

A perfect pirouette en pointe
A sylphid sliver of the air
She borrowed from the undine sky

To calm her nerves and make them writhe
She let the snow float on her stare
To hide the pain of tired joints

And lo, the dancer raised her arms
She turned her face toward the dark
That loomed before the window bright

And in the olden house, her sight
Became some proscenium arch
And in the middle, there was god

It was made of dancer’s legs
A body cut of gentle forms
It danced inside the little void

She wound her body like a toy
Her silhouette limp and forlorn
Her pirouette the way she begged

She took a breath and started in
And made a tightened arabesque
Her ribcage purpled, striped and bruised

Her god at perfect form amused
Her god could drown her like the rest
But she would show it perfection

Adrenaline high heaved and died
Aching sigh moved black and blue
Body strained, contorted, dead

But the dancer moved her head
She pivoted to tight tendu
And tucked her tired heel inside

The child that it had birthed within
Brushed up against her manic beating
Heart and suckled from her veins

She smiled against the aching strain
She laughed so small, so feebly
And roared as she felt strong again

Her tendons, oh, they stretched and swayed
They dragged across her empty veins
Her muscles weakened at the seams

Her head about her like a dream
And when she put her foot to stage
Her vibrant skin broke, parted ways

Her face was open, bright and red
Her eyes the vibrant lights defined
Her swinging hair along her nape

The groping child to satiate
Inside her breast of purpled lines
Until she could not raise her head

But god descended on her form
It’s power in her empty space
And knit her crumbling body tight

So that the spotlight seemed to light
A grand adage, a triumph raised
She laughed and bowed into the void

a turned-over hourglass

oh spider giant, oh hourglass
she, bearing herself, spits the sweat of her back
over her surroundings
like some cloudy, even plateglass

her hieroglyph back arched
her great woven skin
full of moving herselves
blows open and they, exploding out
expand her
like providence from God

and the little not-god
has her sliver legs
destroyed
by some vast volume of thumb
as if God
left only providence behind

leaves ordered dark to bright

would that i were
some brocade pattern sea of leaves
to be swept in a line from
orange to dead brown

for though the dark and mottled
would spin in great number
and blot the screaming lines of sun
i would see once and for all

what mass of me
could catch fire

and come winter
myself would spiral
on the swaths of white
and looking black against it
be nice to see

but for my part
i will try my spark
on my death hoping
God is there
to keep me from orange

I Will Make Herself Reverse

She is so immaculate
Dying body, brain is spent
I cannot see any way
To face a day without her face

Manacles made up of tubes
The shades of blue, the flowers bloom
Ivy drip is trailing over
Vibrant bruises, open clovers

I will make herself reverse
Make her veins to wires
Crackle-hum is haunting her
Light lines line desire

Make to sense the abhorrent
Call to Christ, abandon him
Place a pressure, lay her out
Quilt her bits of flesh about

Posthumous her body,
Segregate make hastes,
Pull the rush apart to see
The way her pleases taste

She is conscious, I’m alright
She is breathing, I can fly
She’s together, I’m okay
Tiny step from full decay

Her eyes will never falter
And her brain will never float
Wheeling hospice bed an altar
Oh my love, you’re my last hope

Sinew in Wind

White-tail rambler, take flight
Soaring in the shadows
Brush stroke pattern on your hide
Shaking as the wind blows

Nose wide, scents upon your mind
Ears a-twitch with buzzing
Panic, creeping like the flies
Bright spots grey and fuzzy

Slow thing, terrible and tight
Trace the forest sprawling
White-tail, what is at your side?
Dusk eyes see him crawling

Leap in quiet, somber dawn
Gold-scape glazing sweetly
Predator has jumped the fawn,
Marked her back for eating

Run, you sinew drifter, run!
Free as falling feathers
Chase the antlers to the sun
Prance the field untethered

Sparrow

She composed her life where
she could only lie there
counting on the cold air
to cobweb her resolve.

She produced a bird sound
pulling at her night gown
dripping on the warm down
her bloody siren’s call.

I handwashed in cold soap
watching pinkish suds go
overwriting striped holes
a palate soft as silk.

Her young eyes were bright white
lightning veins and lids tight
face uncut by smile lines
and pale as mother’s milk.

Nights of pacing, breath spent
oh her little teeth went
nails impaling, harsh bit
to draw my eyes away.

Oh my sparrow, I’d sigh
why do I even try
hydrogen peroxide
baptized forearms swayed.

I am sorry, sparrow
winter trapped us in snow
winter kept the coals cold

You were already gone.

you were already gone

Small Death in Rain

A gentle rain, a cavalcade
has split my thoughts along their seams.
An arcing path of barricades
Was layered strangely in my dreams.

Patterning the open ground,
the droplets reassure the space.
The floor of water flows around
where dirt and pavement alternate.

My fathers’ hands were buried stumps,
the dirt imprinted onto them.
I stepped along the newest lump.
Like glass, I saw the form of him.

Like bone, his dripping headstone shined,
like doom, he hung about my head.
Like planet earth, he churned my mind,
and lo my mother, too, was dead.

Her frailty affixed to me,
and mingled with the smell of death.
The lips that could not comfort me
moved with maggots, not with breath.

I pull my glasses from my face
To wipe the errant paths away.
Oh, Mother Mary, full of grace,
please stay until my dying day.