I Left My Door Unlocked

I Left My Door Unlocked

And you barged in my room

During the blue hours of the

Morning, took my car keys –

Looked at my pillowhidden body –

And set your Ipad on

My desk, then licked your lips and

Kissed my mouth cold

I kept my mouth shut

Because my breath smelled like

Dried pike but you just chuckled

Wrinkled your nose

And kissed me like there was a prize in my mouth

Self Control

There is a writhing
worm in my mind snaking around the things I want to do to your body.
Instead I open the nearest book
to pour salt on the sex-crazed snail and feel
tight spasms in my biceps, my abdominals, my calves as she withers. She turns to a dreadful dried up carcass,
reduced to
chaff blown over
the page that reads:
"those that live in love, God draws to himself and encloses them within himself"

I close the book and dusty dead skin cells shoot out from both ends

On November 9th

leaf
come down

said the blue grass

but the yellowing fellow

only gripped tighter

to the brown barking

branch begging him to

break off, but in spite

his stem pinched

plugging both hands

white knuckled in

pathetic persistence

he wouldn’t pluck

refused to fall –

if it be the death of him

to fall meant to break

the wristwatch and tick

backwards, trickle

independently in to the

unkempt pile in the street

and become

one shade of red in a million

The Basement

She lingers outside the basement

Facing the closed door

Hugging her middle – she shivers

The door wasn’t this white last December

Or two years ago

When her mom repainted the kitchen

The knob, too, is duller bronze

And locked in place

Like a cocked rifle

Her shoulders shudder – crossed arms

Fingertips crimpling t-shirt fabric

The door was definitely not this white

Her eyes slam shut like dumpster lids

She remembers

What happened behind that door

Before she could even turn the kitchen lights on

Or remove her snow-spotted coat

He was pushing her down the stairs

Her lips curl over her teeth – she remembers

How his legs pinched her waist

Like a hungry bear trap

He forced his meat in her mouth

Vomit burns the back of her throat

She still tastes his salty brown flesh

Feels the freezing cement on her scalp

Her neck stiffens

The door couldn’t have been this white that December day

A rapid thud behind the basement door

Stampedes her pulse

Shoots her eyes open like high beams

And beats closer until

The door swings open

She falls back

Landing on her wrists

They crack like kindling

She’s angled on the linoleum

And her mother stands over her

Carrying a laundry basket

Overflowing with brown towels

“What are you doing on the floor?”

She props the basket on the couch

To fold the towels before they wrinkle

And forgets to close the door behind her

“Please empty the dishwasher like I asked”

But the dungeon is gaping, perpetually laughing

Her ponytail loosens as she scrambles

On her hands and knees

To grab the knob and hush the bully

Sloppily shutting him up pushing her back

Against him hugging her calves to her chest

Could the door have been this white this whole time?

Walking to Meet You

While crossing the bridge
Two swans sleep
S-curled necks
One touches the bank
The other floats behind
Teasing 6:30 sun
Cradled in rivers palm
They disappear upon our return
Perhaps they moved to willow shade

She the Sun

Sun, modest as she tends to be

Robes her form

With velvet dawn

Just before her pale tresses

Fall over the earth

Rabbits linger

On the edge of scattered lawns

The bleak night bleeds

Through Seneca Lake

At dawn he gorges himself

On her damp flesh

He slurps – sallow flesh

Hangs at the corners of his mouth

Lake water drips down his chin

The yellow mistress

Disrobes politely, steps forward slowly

A silent carousal of light  

Claims day begin

Her unveiled form shames him

I Can't Wait To Sit In Traffic With You

I on land

And you in the sea

Folding in the waves

Like shadow leaves at dusk

I in open air

You sheathed

With ocean mist

A broken clam shell

Next to dry weeds of the sea

On charred sand

Dull vertigo

Rides you in

Provider

Lord today you led me to Psalm 111 where I was able to delight in you and your promises.

“Great are your works Oh Lord they are pondered by all who delight in them.”

How true it is that many times I ignore what you do or overlook your mighty hand in my life. How many times have you provided for me and I have just gone on with the next thing, submitted my next request, become consumed in the next worry that I am blinded to your hand? We move on after struggle and pain without acknowledging who it was that got us through. Lord shame on me for neglecting to acknowledge you and what you’ve done. It is like walking through an art museum with blinders and an unappreciative spirit. That canvas was once blank! Bring to light the magnificent things I have ignored that I may ponder your beauty.

“The Lord is gracious and compassionate.”

Now this one you have revealed to me lately. You are exactly what David describes you to be. I don’t understand how you can be so loving and comforting. You extend your kindess despite my turned face. Lord you ARE compassion. You ARE grace. You cant act any other way towards me. I cant believe I am allowed to be in such intimate contact with the source of these powerful and life changing traits. Lord soften my heart that your kindness might transform me.

“He provides food for those who fear him”

David’s practical addition seems a bit out of place in the context of this passage. However, I think it matches our nature as humans. Even when we are acknowledging the goodness of you and your loving character traits, we so easily turn to worries and concerns that have turned to habit. What will we wear tomorrow? How will we pay for our next semester? Where will we live when we get married? What if I don’t pass that test? What if I can’t find a job? How will I find time to do all the things I need to do?

David’s assurance that we will be fed extends from the provisional master that God IS. 1 Timothy 6:17 claims God richly provides us with everything to enjoy.

David goes to great length in other Psalms to glory in the provision experienced in God:

“O God, you provided for the needy”

“He also gives bread and provides meat for his people”

God IS provision. He is gracious, he is compassionate. He will therefore not allow his child to go wanting. He will fill your stomach, but he YEARNS to fill you mind, soul and spirit with the water that forever prevents thirst from entering again.

In view of the loving daddy that God delights to be to us, how silly we are to let our mundane concerns affect our attitude, behavior and effectiveness in loving others. When filled with anxiety over something God tells us he will take care of, we waste energy worrying over something that logically doesn’t make sense to worry about.

In the case of something we DESIRE God to provide for us, we can trust he will give us what is best – exactly what we need beyond what we can imagine. His prescription takes the entire chart and family history in to account. He has the highest degree in medicine. We only see the immediate headache. Wouldn’t you rather be treated for the source of the disease rather than just disguise a small symptom?

We can trust him and delight in what he provides for us, KNOWING that He knows better and wants the best for us.

Psalm 65:8-10 “You visit the earth and water it; you greatly enrich it; the river of God is full of water; you provide their grain, for so you have prepared it. You water its furrows abundantly, settling its ridges, softening it with showers, and blessing its growth.”