Sunflowers Die

They locked the door

Thinking that all they
Had to do was
Twist a lock
And trouble would be kept outside.

Fools.

Convinced that she had sinned


She went to her priest
Who consoled her with
Stories
Of Biblical harlots.

So she put on a red dress,

And played the part
Though none of it fit
Very well.

Momma knows.


Though momma pretends not to see.


Some hypocrites choose blindness
Others poison.

It's all the same in the end.


The doctor comes and you
Are forced to face the truth
Which comes hurling
Finally freed
From your hips
In an unholy basin.

Momma knows.


And now so does the young doctor.
The one with the sad, thoughtful, poet's eyes.

But he's discreet

He can be trusted.
He sees what is ugly and laid-low
But out pops cascades of poetry,
More beautiful than an infant's hand.

Shadowy rooms reveal secrets

Even when only one candle is lit
And secrets retreat
Back to cozy anonymity.


He's had a bad scare tonight.


Let's have coffee and assess your intended.


Let's pretend that we're both pure,
While he, the poor virgin, pretends
To be experienced.


Book knowledge.

Life knowledge.


Both can satisfy
And fail.


Affectations all.


None of it means much.


You my dear are a slut.


And I my dear am the one who broke down
Your barriers.
I only wanted you because you were new
My shoes were new once
Now I kick them off without a care.
Did you honestly expect better?

You were new and easily plucked.


Now you've lost your bloom
And I am disgusted by our
Animal actions.
Yet I will take you again
Until I am sated.


A gunshot


A swallow of this poison or that.


It takes a certain kind of mad courage


To do both
And none of us
Whether living or dead
Are above gossip.


He was devoted to your mother,


Even though he left her with you
While he played cards
Gambling then losing
Both his life and hers.


She died alone when you were still young.


He knows the truth now.


He'd like to beat you but
Hurls headfirst into your lap instead.
You look out the window listening to the bells,
And remembering a poet's eyes.


You've destroyed him


Along with yourself,
And you hold each other
Crying, yet not knowing why.


Both sides prayed for victory from the same God.


When their boots wore out
They’d happily give their souls elsewhere.
Such is the importance of new shoes.


A great capacity for suffering.


Revolutions begin when boots wear out,


Bellies howl
And eyes see nothing before them.


So it began.


Hope comes from other voices


While the old guard gets
Stomped to death in the street
With the boots that had been stolen
Off the feet of those who lay
Stiffer than stone.


They won't need them now.


Because someone asked for bread,


And was denied it,
The first gunshots were fired.
Giving the bread would have been easier,
But saying "no" to the starving
Makes the strong feel powerful.


Hunger has its own particular power.


We all need to kneel sometimes.


Those who refuse usually end up face down in the mud.
Broken under their own weight.


Of course that will never happen to you.


You'll do anything to survive.
This side, that
One is as good as the other.
No matter as long as you pretend to be friends,
Pat each other on the back
While anticipating a knife.


Lara remembers


He wrote some verse about me and my name.


I carried his child then lost her.
He never knew she existed.
I searched, but never found the writer
Nor the poem he'd written for me
And died alone
In a barren room.


He never knew what happened to me,


And love wasn't enough
To keep us together.


Sunflowers on a table


In unnatural ground
Fade and die
As they yearn
for the sun’s
Motherly embrace.