The clock strikes midnight and the only thing in the house is the thornless rose and me.

Flower girl,
you are my calypso
head deep in the wisdom
of nothing
send me reeling out to
see
the raw nature of a
thornless rose

 

clip all the storms
and place them on the kitchen table
arrange them in a bouquet
covered in green tissue paper
I’ll wait for the storms
to mature and wilt
but I keep gazing at the
foot trodden doorstep
waiting for my calypso.

 

 

 

Advertisements

koúkla mou

1.

One day someone will sing a lullaby
when counting sheep does not help
if lullabies don’t help you sleep
a cup of warm milk will be by your bedside

They’ll take pictures of the smiles
that form on your beautiful face
placing them safely in a book
bound in plastic, to last over the years

They’ll mend every broken heart and stubbed toe
placing a band-aid on whatever is hurt

2.

One day koúkla mou
You’ll exist

Pocketing Memories With Pieces of Lint

An implicative memory hangs limply on a coat hanger
Wrap it around my shoulders and move on
I forget it’s there until I remember
When no other words are processing,
I remember.

Compose myself with sips of water
and splashes of reality
Then go back to the class and settle down

Lint balls collect and I pick them off
Feeling guilty for losing the little bits left of you
I pocket them,
and they begin to collect
like the congealing memories

I feel guilty about you becoming a memory
You should be more than pieces of lint
collecting in my pocket

I wrap myself up in the smells of every memory
that I will not let fade away

and all I have is the vague smell of home and
lint balls that remind me of you