Tag: creative writing

Father and Daughter

Religion and faith

are best friends,

are enemies.

The law is a locket with His picture and

my neighbor’s picture inside.

I build cathedrals from beads and bubble gum.

I am a girl safe

in her Father’s arms,

dressed in silk and velvet,

diamonds at my throat.

He covers my war-torn wrists

in rubies.

 

The Art of the Body

Bodies so surreal

so intricately designed.

I adore bodies –

from the spare perfection of

thin bodies –

so small as to break at a harsh gaze,

to big, bountiful bodies with rolls and curves

everywhere all the time

I am consumed by the art of the body,

the elegant thin arm outstretched,

the belly a pillow to rest on.

Necks like flower stems and tree trunks –

hair brilliant, glossy petals.

 

Number Jungle

Number Jungle

 

5 has keys. 5 jangles.

Closes cabinets with hips.

 

9 slithers up the glass windows,

copulates on the roof.

 

2 lives

in the succulent old birch tree,

sipping insipid syrup leaking as though from a sieve.

Trees hear each other cry.

 

 

Fighting with a chipmunk for nuts is 4.

4 with big teeth and base instinct

who made the terrain with his little claw year by year.

 

 

3 is a sucker for Romance languages,

estuaries that burn the thirsty livid.

 

 

See the gators muscle through the delta

unaware he watches hungry.

 

7 churns in the puddles

bites mosquitoes til they welt

 

8 carves slices of watermelon beyond the fence

 

spitting seeds

into

a

hole

in

the

ground,

listening to them nest and

fight,

content without toys

 

1 sings high in the breeze,

perched on a cell tower.

Unattainable music,

sweet sweat dripping from him

a rain of sugar.