little bitty writing

repeated so many times it no longer scared me. chords and fingers running through my hair. the words tangled with my dreams. knoxville.

one more time. put your arm across my face. one more time. and i will sink my teeth across your ancient flesh. as though pointing out the plants and lights we all can see is needed. your grandson can see the waves and arcs without your finger pointed across my face. one more time.

there are different moments of the same story. told in tandem, overlapping. as one vein fades another lifts skyward off the ground.

everyone walks now on what used to be my path. i still go sometimes, at off times, weaving around. when it's over i'll hug them.

we ripped up scraps of paper wrote down secrets and memories to forget. put them down among the embers and let them turn into dust.

helmets are not optional.no one will care how you lookedwhen your skull cracks on the road.they will just miss you.

it's you. i knew what came next. a picture shared. a gif received. it's you. as though i could ever be as cute as a grey queen stretching her paws for more berries or tumbling down a hill. but we all need heros. for you, my grey queen, i balance my bowl of berries on my belly, paws squeezing fresh fruit. it's me, your grey queen.

ice covered the walk. ugg boots failed to provide a sturdy surface, i watched as we all fell down like foals learning to walk, our knees splayed ungainly. but youth allowed us to persevere eventually making it to class dusting off our egos.

i heard hyenas laugh that night, my eyes tilted up, the full moon so bright she bleached out all other sights. their laughter split the stars, grounded us, dust on my black dress. it was still daytime back home. not too late for a call. but there was dust on my dress, the moon on my face, and laughter.

i never learned chemistry, our teacher slumped over, checking his computer, quietly talking to himself. we got closer, learning about each other, our own kind of chemistry.

they aren't exactly lost, but i don't see them anymore. not because i won't, but because i can't. now not because my eyes wouldn't let me, but because they are blind to what they no longer understand.

there's a little cut, left hand, index finger. i was too excited last week, fresh avocado will do that to you. any fresh veggies, these days. there's a little cut. in the scheme of things, today, it's not even there.

this is the time, yogurt, honey, berries. lessons sent out. waiting for replies. i sit quietly. yogurt, honey, berries.

they've nested up front, branches were warped by big snows, those spaces now homes. it gives us something to watch and these days that's all we've got.

i watch you buzzing, i know you'll bring honey. i'll eat it on yogurt. honey tastes like money.

it's been off for months, but there's two bulbs in there and with enough wishful thinking i pretend one is enough light.

planting seeds in old boxes of dirt that's spilling. waiting for shoots, life growing from past years' bounty. compost brings change to become the food for summer.