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LonerBlood

Life, Love, & Other Things That Make You Wonder

Month

March 2016

The Accordion’s Player’s Daughter

You come along to collect money, and sympathy.

Propped up like a puppet; a desperate sales force.

There is commerce in loneliness.

 

You sit there, solo, the way I do.

Even among all those people,

you are still alone.

 

Blocks of blank spaces fill the ground,

paving a path that may lead

to your salvation.

 

Daddy didn’t prepare you for this day.

Winter coats worn by most

as you sat there – limbs exposed.

 

Paint peels off the wall and floats

away, the way the smile

fades into your cheeks.

 

A hatbox full of coins

could never fill your void.

You come along because you have no choice.

 

 

 

 

The poet who sees only those details that flatter our hopes has one eye closed to reality.

Deluge

my life is a walk in the rain

I neglect the umbrella

as the raindrops christen

the sizzling sidewalk

like whispers under my feet

a flood of childhood:

wet cats in the backyard

the strays swerve swiftly

as the sidewalk fractures

cement spices stifle me

as the birds take the breeze

the sky opens with

Mother’s arms allowing me

to introduce myself to the sun

and waive the umbrella

Photo courtesy of The Guardian Liberty Voice.

Chagrin

Why didn’t they tell you

to straighten your necklace?

Grown up children back then;

they evolved only on the outside.

Porcelain dreams in your vapid gaze;

I wonder why they were broken.

Was it black and white back then?

Was it bleak and weak in your dreams?

Before the heaps of hurdles

were thrown at you;

before all the shattered

windows (for your escape);

when your dreams collided into the

wall and your thoughts were thrusted.

You never allowed yourself anything;

 flowers nipped by the frost.

I can smell your disappointment;

your regret lingers as you loiter.

Unmoved. Removed. I disapprove

of your unintentional episodes.

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