Building Fences

“Good fences make good neighbors.”

Stone by stone
the wall appears
out of the field,
out of the soil,
out of nowhere.

Balanced carefully
between the fear of loss
and the fear of what might get in,
this boundary serves you well—
guarding everything,
prepared for anything.

It is beautiful
the way it stands
solidly in its place,
lips tight
and righteously correctly
in the firm border it creates
near the fertile earth
that might be the garden
that feeds the belly and soul—
surrounding the open field,
a meadow who opens herself
to the light of dawn
and the brilliance of a billion stars
at midnight waiting for the birth
of another full moon.

In a century from now
when red squirrels climb through
the bones of this place,
no one will remember
the need to build a false prison
for hearts and minds
so close to freedom.
This headstone of nothing
will stand as a poem
that has forgotten
how to sing.

As Promised

As promised
it is darker here,
in this place of dreaming
where all questions,
all words,
have become the companions
of madness.

Silence and disappointment
stare at me, hold my hand,
wait for me to say something,
anything that will carve meaning
out of the skin I will discard
in the morning.

Hand me the shovel
and let me dig my own place
in the warmth of the earth.
I will nestle myself into this bed
where I am more alone than I have ever been.

The wings that stretched
with courage toward the sky
will stay folded now,
nicely as the hands of a proper woman
in the pews on Sunday morning.

Not even the angels can tempt me to fly again.

Next time they come to visit
the place where my heart used to live,
I will be gone.
The shards of that broken cup
are too small for my fingertips
to recover in this dark place
where I vowed to meet love
with the hope to heal
the world.

I am awake—
my eyes searching
for even a glimmer
of the light
from your candle.

Even a widow eventually learns
that her man will never come home,
and that she must hang up her black dress
and pray that tomorrow
will bring a little more comfort.

But for now
it is too dark to see anything
and I must wait to smell the scent of desire
as he returns from the hunt--
his hot breath touching my face
like uncontrollable kindness.