Poetry
Orange Slices
This is what you were made for.
You rest comfortably in a warm kitchen drawer,
Patiently waiting for the light
And the taste of sweet, ripe fruit.
You dreamed of it for such a long time;
And now, as orange juice leaves your handle
Just the smallest bit tacky,
You’re content to know
You will never again know the taste
Of anything less sweet.
This has always been your purpose.
There’s no hard rind you must dig through,
To find what you are truly worth.
You are sweet and soft,
exactly as you are.
Unharmed,
And unhidden.
Worm Poem
I pity the worms come the rain,
And their foolish hope.
That they might make it
To greener grass,
And richer soil.
They’ve not the insight we do.
To know that in just days,
They’ll be dried up scuffs on the pavement.
Never knowing what that greener grass
And richer soil,
Might have held for them.
But I’m sure some of them make it.
Some that we don’t see.
Some of them make it, right?
Some of them have to make it,
Right?
Dead Bird / Maggie
You sit motionless on the ground.
Your stark black eyes look unblinkingly upwards.
Your brilliant red feathers are dirtied by the mulch.
As you grow more and more foul,
The world passes you by without regard for the heights you soared;
And I worry I am the only one who notices you.
But I see you,
And I grieve you.
To grieve is to worship, and so you are worshiped.
To worship is to recognize, and so you are recognized,
To recognize is to relive, and so you are relived.
You are pinned underneath the arms of a cruel machine beyond your understanding.
Your beady lensed eyes reflect hundreds of windshields.
Your tiny arms are thrown haphazardly by the wind of the highway.
As panic consumes you further and further,
The cars pass you by without regard for the colonies you lead;
And I worry I am the only one who notices you.
But I see you,
And I grieve you.
To grieve is to adore, and so you are adored.
To adore is to study, and so you are studied,
To study is to acknowledge, and so you are acknowledged.
You are strapped down to a bed that you will find no sleep in.
Your perfect light eyes are bloodshot and misty in terror.
Your gorgeous blonde hair sheds from the stress of this prison.
As you thrash at your restraints and beg for help,
The nurses pass you by without regard for your humanity.
And I worry I will be the only one who ever noticed you.
But I saw you,
And I grieve you.
To grieve is to love, and so you are loved.
To be loved is to be known, and so you are known,
To be known is to be remembered, and so you are remembered.
Even if only by me.