He was vibrant and tender at the same time. There was some childlike charm about him but a maturity that surpassed most men I knew. While I am quietly drawn to the ones with a little weathering, he was weathered in places that weren’t obvious. Since the first moment he gave that wink I knew I was living in the pause before his kiss.

But we couldn’t live in conjecture and we were killing each other riotously with all of our not touching. His eyes were dangerous, they wrapped my heart in thin metal as they clung to my body like a drenched sun dress. The halo on his head wasn’t broken, it had settled in for a long sleep, leaving him fair haired and fair skinned. His charm and wit touted laughter and applause but his gentle lived just under the surface. I listened deeper to see the colors of…

“I’m sorry, I don’t carry change.”

That’s what I always say, though sometimes
it’s a lie.

From Goa to Mumbai
it is considered unwise to give to children who beg on the streets;
better to donate to charities that protect them from their tormentors.
I live by that principle on my forays through this English town
where the victims are adult, their tormentors
are chemicals to be melted on a spoon and injected,
and their habit can kill.

These days I rarely engage with them;
they don’t require sandwiches, pasties or practical advice
and I can’t give them a bed for the night, so I can do nothing to assist,
yet those eyes kidnapped me as she begged beside Tesco Metro.

“I’m sorry – I don’t carry change,” I said.

It was the eyes that detained me;
eyes that sang in the storm of cause and effect,
in the chaos what…

Years after her
disappearance
they reminisced …

it never took much
to change her
mind
but heaven and earth
couldn’t
change her ways

her emotions
blew with the wind

a cold front
brought icy stares
folded arms
silence

a heat wave
provoked intense glares
and a rebellious smirk

her thoughts,
on the other hand,
switched frequencies
as easily as a radio dial

if she was dialed 
into you
the electricity
was palatable

when her thoughts
wandered
she was lost
to another world,
another dimension

the day she
disappeared
they found a note

her last words,

“I may be in this world,
but I am not of this world
and neither are you.
Find me and be free.”

If you go far enough into the mountains
They will close around you
bewitch you like a ring—
the one you wear or wore or will wear
to remind you of faith love loyalty—
the vague promises of youth.
They will take you in whole,
larger than life, a legend of your dreams
the spring of self and joy in your feet
belief of forever warm in your belly
a smell like daffodils leading you further
toward the highest—the ram-gamboled—
rocky, wisp wreathed planes.

If you go far enough, as few do—
If you step past the last wire’s barb,
past the jeep track that runnels away,
while others peek through shuttered gaps
at the bruised sky swinging an arm against them,
grinding their knees gritty in belief
that knees will shape a twisted wind’s pity—

If you go far enough into the wild
you will pass milk river
which…

There are rules to be followed

guidelines to be remembered

to be followed to the tee

before I can call my self a woman

a lady like appearance

and that ever-present grin on my face

smiling from ear to ear

just to please you and ease you into the life

as you please

I should bow down in obedience

should never raise my voice

walk with the stoop of  discipline

and  eat with your hand

with the freedom

you have handed me on the plate

Like I was the chosen one, you see

Oh! that skirt is a little shorter than we expected

see it clearly fails to keep those lurking demon inside their skin

Now, you have shown them

too much flesh

now they will come out

and rip you into shreds

will devour your soul from within

“I told you” they will say

keep your voice down

the patriarchy can’t handle you pitch

they are tone-deaf…

On the horizon
Where earth and ocean meet the sky
Where two worlds collide
This is where my heart resides
Always at the divide
If you pay attention
You can see it in my eyes.

The sun and the moon
Indifferent in their ways
Are unaware this place
Ignorant their position
As they drift aimlessly through space
Never knowing their power
Not understanding
The part that they play
In deciding our fate
In dictating the difference
Between the nights and the day.

Oh, but in the soft twilight
There is no day, there is no night
And in this balance
But for a moment
All is right.

Curtain

Adept at withdrawal, it retreats.
How appropriate, we think,
that its body curls
with the wind’s
tug, offering
only the
slightest
resistance. Then
it returns,
bringing to mind
the habitual offender
whose discomfiture
lies in choice,
the fear
of enclosure
removed. The
forward glance.
And back again,
whispering its
edict: concede, reclaim.
Give and take. We are as one.

“Curtain” last appeared on the blog in July 2017.