Poem of the Week

The Azelea Bush
* i think this is going into the chapter 'jar of the lungs' in my next book. enjoy *

The Azalea Bush

It is as pure as the early azalea-
It is in bloom too early
but casts such hope
when everything else seems
stuck in place.

But I breathe too soon
when I walk up to the overwhelming,
vibrant magenta,
I smell its grandeur
just before the blossoms
turn grey and wither below-
a blanket of rot
beneath proud, leathery leaves that say,
"look at what we have overcome,
look at us catch the sun!"
And its beauty is caught
only in a photograph,
a painful remainder of the
too-soon beauty I worshipped
and lost.

It was as pure as the early azalea,
I was in bloom too early
and lost my hope
when I turned around and you were
stuck in place.
- Sunday, February 26, 2006

The Half-Boy At Sixteen
* i'm not sure where this poem's home is yet... i can't quite place it in the upcoming book, so i thought i'd let it find a place to settle right here... enjoy *

The Half-Boy At Sixteen

I think of you
in that chair
and the way you wheel about
with your abdomen missing
and your smile magically attached
as if by gale winds or
a hunting bobcat.

You spun on the floor
in a dancehall frenzy
and collapsed into
the ball of flesh you are
with two arms and a head-
a crooked snowman
or a sleepy aeroplane.

And that young girl's
virgin smile rested on your cheek-
her Christian fingers around
your muscled arm
squeezes tenderly,
like lime into gin or
a drop of water onto a
morning leaf.

And because you cannot
create children
nor complete a woman,
I see you there
standing on polished legs-
no curse of wheels or
a metal cage,

and I spin around
to find my own missing arms,
my legs of fire and stone,
and put them on again
like a parrot's crown or
an invisible mask.
- Saturday, February 11, 2006

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