May 20

Seashells

She wipes her hands
on a frilly skirt
fingers stained 
with blue berry ink
basket swaying
on the ground
with fingers laced on its
round belly
she smiles

He shows the horses
to their awaiting troughs
hand on thier 
sides
like a lifelong companion
the big beasts
huff the sleeping flys
from nostril hammoks
he smiles

Her watch bumps
on her wrist
eyes trying to makeout
her mile time
feet smacking
the well worn
tiretracks
she smiles

The fire clicks
its tongue
hair drifting into the 
night
he swats a bug
and tosses another 
handful of sticks
into the blaze
he smiles

The last book
slides into place
creating a flat
wall
of titles 
and authors
her arms
supporting eachother
in a mutual 
twist
on her sunsoaked flannel
she smiles
May 20

Dandelion Puffs on the Wind

As a bird fidgets
with a seed
the girl taps
the reload button
over 
and over
till her finger
is smushed flat
and her eyes
are stained
with pixels
nothing new
comes when she 
reloads 
again
and again
eyelids close
black on the screen
chargeless
from her demands
she slaps her fingers
on her desktop 
in disgust
mouth sinching
brows narrowing
a small
huff
pinched from her lips
but she stops
unclenching her face
she looks at nothing
sitting on her window
galaxys floating 
beyond her pupils
whispering cries
beating on her drums
she sees 
the nose curling
ingredients 
inside the hotdog
the things shiny wrappers
try to hide
she sees
people running
and hiding
and crying
and craddling
babies
already running
before they can walk
May 11

Seeds

They were fussy green sprouts

If the water drowned their roots

Their fingers would turn yellow

And their soil black

Gurgling in their plastic cells

If I took off their roof

Their lanky legs

Would hurry towards the light

Wringing their stalk

Smaller than I wanted

And the nightly frost permitted

If I never turned off their sun

Their leaves shriveled

Curling towards the stalk

Old grey scrolls

So I spend my time 

Trying to find 

The perfect medium

Slaving for fussy green sprouts

 
Apr 30

Welcome Spring

It comes quickly
capes billowing 
riding April's horses
across the lake
an old picture in my phone
that works a smile onto my face
blushing my cheeks
with nostalgic memories
it whispers in the forecaster's ear
telling well-known secrets
it sweeps the snow 
up onto the mountain tops
dusting the valleys
with a crooked broom
it weaves its way 
into the grass
till the wind doesn't 
burn my nose
It comes with weighted clouds
slicking the stones
till fallen leaves drip 
into the dirt
a book a find wedged
behind my headboard
full of so much wonder
I can't believe I had forgotten
but I still remember every word
a room in the house
I forgot was there
but it doesn't mind I forgot
It simply taps the soil
and the lawn grows 
a shaggy mop of hair
the buds peel to expose
their colors
ladies dancing
on the riverbank
Apr 27

Call me by my name

As we climb the mountains
you can call me fast
unburdened by creatures
that cling from the past
As we trudge through the swamps
you can call me keen
pointing out things
that don't want to be seen
As we bend 'round the brambles
you can call me wise
keeping paper field mice
behind my eyes
As we are swept with the current
you can call me sweet
wanting butter on my bread
and salt on my meat
As we hack through the jungle
you can call me brave
unnerved by hands 
that taunt from the grave
As we swim through the snowdrifts
you can call me a friend
patching the patchwork
no mender could mend
But as we journey down the trails
that no one would dare
please call me Ava
Ava Claire


 
Apr 16

Unspoken words between shadows

Runs with the lions is their shadows

Waiting till midday to huddle

Under padded feet

Fearing the consequences
If their edges ripped from the fur

To stop running through 

The horizon’s layers

Seeping into the dirt
Folding into a dream

They open to see

When their legs grow tired

To close again since dreams
Never come true

When you are trodding

To the melting sunset

Running with the lions

 

Pages