poeming

i will miss (and not miss)

2009-02-17T18:30:00.001-08:00

i will miss:

the sky and the water connecting in one fluid line as i drive over the Bob Sykes bridge.
knowing that i can't speed on base or on campus at uwf.
feeling a blast of hot, wet, sticky air when i lower my window at any time from may through late september.
feeling as though i'm a part of a community of people who can claim they're from here, and somehow have some moral superiority over every other person who's NOT a native.... because we are a rarity.
cocktails and tapas at global grill.
sushi at dharma's, atlas, and horizen's.
the trestle on 17th avenue.
bayou texar.
white sands that whistle and squeak when i walk across the dunes (that people can't drive on).
memories of buildings wiped out by hurricanes--trader john's, surf and sand cottages, just to name a few.
sunday brunch at madison's, flounder's, and end of the line.
pizza and beer at ozone's.
antique shopping at alyssa's in pace.
la hacienda after church.
driving and walking and eating and partying dowtown....Palafox, the Saenger....
my best friends.

i will not miss...... missing my baby.
sleeping alone.
wondering if my future was ever going to start.

hoping and waiting

2009-02-17T18:21:00.000-08:00

i've been silent
lately
because i can't rest-
between the pauses
and the fits
and starts

that make up this
period of waiting

that will start
my new life--
the one i've always known i should lead

and hope will
actually happen

because i love him
and he loves me.

tomorrow

2008-12-15T16:42:00.000-08:00

you'll be here tomorrow. again.

i just saw you at thanksgiving, and you surprised me, then.
i thought i might surprise you, now.
but nature had a different plan.
it's better this way, and i'm relieved...
but also a little disappointed.

i'm ready to start things, and keep starting things

2008-03-14T18:58:00.000-07:00

the noise in my room is of negative space:
a quiet that comes from a lack.
the lack is due
to the silence that comes
from your absence,
and my missing you.

i miss you already

2008-03-14T18:54:00.001-07:00

your hand-on the small of my back-
leaves an imprint.
i am chained to that touch,
and cannot move past it.

you are my forever,
and i only partially know who i am

when you are not near.

another letter

2007-12-30T16:36:00.000-08:00

dear ----,
i appreciate the words of encouragement concerning my last "letter". it's important for me to have an audience without actually having an audience. you figure things out through your lyrics; i figure things out in e-mails that never get sent. in other words, i feel comfortable telling things to a stranger (because that's really what you are) rather than people i see on a daily basis. they tend to catalog statements and remind you of them later. and you become culpable for any instruction that might have been administered. "see! i told you that would happen...." you somehow feel obligated not to disappoint them, to somehow diminish yourself in their eyes. that's unpleasant. no one likes to be vulnerable or feel manipulated out of the choice-making process. so, i can express myself freely to you, without regret. you have no vested interest, and will therefore offer none of the platitudes and admonishments offered by moms and man-hating best friends everywhere.
it must be evident from my previous posts that the nature of things has changed for the better. my love has come partway back. i say partway, because even though he acknowledges our compatibility, and even though he told me that i make him happy, there are no guarantees that things will work out the way i want them to. let me refresh your memory on that point: i want to spend the rest of forever cooking him dinner, arguing about religion and politics, and holding hands. i've done all those things and more. and i feel content.
see, i know what i want from a relationship. this is mainly because i was so unhappy in my previous ones (particularly my marriage--you may have caught the story about it elsewhere). i don't think my ex- is evil. he's just not right for me. but my baby....oh, he's perfect.....perfect for me. i don't have to convince myself; i just know it.
so he came to see me the week before christmas. we spent a great deal of time getting the backdrops ready for the school's christmas play. he helped me, took me out to dinner, took me shopping, fulfilled my needs. HE CAME TO SEE ME. my heart ached loudly enough that he heard and responded. i don't beg, but i'm honest. i don't hold back; pain can be cathartic in the end.

i wish i had a definitive way to describe my future with this man. he knows what i want, and i think he wants it too. but he's struggling to get past some of the impediments. all i know is that when i look into his eyes, all the cheesy romance novels and love songs and chocolate-fondue poetry become real and valid for me. i see us twenty years down the road-me with my hair dyed an unnatural color and him with an extra fifteen pounds around his waist-and none of that would be true if the feelings weren't reciprocated. it's when he's there and i'm here, and his dad is chewing away on his ear about the detriments of marrying an OLDER woman with THREE children, that he loses sight of the truth.
but i don't.

Sated

2007-12-30T10:19:00.000-08:00

I took the day off, and we went shopping in Mobile.
We had grits and eggs at the Coffee Cup first,
then headed west on the interstate.
The ride was comfortable: we talked, we laughed,
you held my hand while your other one rested on the steering wheel.

When we got to the mall, you told me to pick out whatever I wanted.
I didn't tell you that you walking with you arm around me was all I wanted,
and that i didn't need anything else.
That would have sounded trite.
Besides, the Christmas present you were getting me
was already extravagant.
So I said nothing, and just smiled.
You put your arm around me as we strolled through the crowds.
We wandered around, looking for the Apple store.
Turns out the closest one's Birmingham.

We got some coffee at Starbuck's, and wondered where to go next.
I didn't care. I was with you.
We bought some gifts for the kids at Best Buy, then got back on the road.
You got on-line and ordered my gift when we got home,
then you made me feel good all over again.
That perfect fit.

We ate out later-a tapas place downtown-and it was delicious.
It was our favorite place to go when you still lived here,
besides the Italian restaurant we went to the night you got in.
Feeling you near-your hand holding mine, your arm around my waist:
I always want to feel that security, that sensation of fullness,
that feeling of being sated.
I wasn't worried about losing you again;
doubts will creep in over time, I'm sure.
But that day, my cup was as full as it could be, without running over.

Italian Restaurant

2007-12-18T04:54:00.000-08:00

Table for two by a crackling fire-
the hostess could see something in our eyes.
Our waiter kept filling our glasses with a smile.
Your Pasta Diavolo was spicy-
"Just like me," I said with a grin.
"Yeah. But you're sweet, too."
Your knee touched mine.
Your finger brushed the silky fabric on my shirt,
and lingered there. I felt my skin through your touch, your eyes.
I couldn't help staring into them; so green and clear.

You talked about physics, and I was interested...
because it was you talking.
I couldn't help touching your hand--you'd warmed mine
in the car, on the way from the airport.
Then, my fingers had hesitated before finally curling around the fingers
lacing through them.
At the restaurant though,
I took your hand and started gently kissing and biting your knuckles.
You lost track of what you were saying,
and had to shift in your chair.
I smiled, and glanced away before returning your gaze.

We made it home quickly, you following me in your rental car.
Back in my room-it seemed like you'd never left--
I found myself being lifted and carried to the bed,
as your lips kissed mine.
They were gentle at first, then more insistent.
I was ready.
I was ready when I first saw you pull up in your car.
I was ready before you ever got here.
You fill me up in a way that's right.
We laughed and played and lay there on the bed.
I felt sexy and silly and complete.
I think people hope for that; I know I do.
I was in your arms, and the warmth was unimaginably right and true.

With words, I try to frame the picture,
to wrap the present and all its meanings;
to capture something that may not last.
But last night, when you lingered and murmered,
"We still have some time, right?" it was perfect.
We were perfect.

"best friends"

2007-12-15T18:26:00.000-08:00

you'll be here monday.

I'll See You Soon, II

2007-12-14T03:50:00.000-08:00

It's 5:00 am and I'm improbably awake.
The cat litter needs changing.
There are papers to grade.
The house is a mess,
and I feel like life has gotten away
from me.

i guess these things take time....

2007-12-03T16:12:00.000-08:00

i am overwhelmed with the scent and breathlessness of desire-the desire to hold that gasp that comes when you touch my skin with your eyes, your fingertips, your teeth.

my body doesn't realize what my mind has been told: that you no longer have the will to dominate my senses, to possess me, to overpower my need to be uniquely me; it embraced the will to become something more-uniquely us. it hasn't realized that it will no longer be part of you. and it suffers...the held breath, the longing, the hope....they all make it hard to remember to breathe.

how is it that only my body, and not yours, feels this? when will it forget you? when will it forget contact of your male strength-hair, hard muscle, power-and my female strength-soft skin, reception?

i feel your body's pressure on mine: your chest pressed against my back, your hands grasping the curve of my waist, your breath on my neck, in my ear; i arch, but there is no fulfillment. voluptuous impotence-it's an emptier place than most.

how can you give up what we had? i haven't been able to, yet.

********************************************************

i leaned over the edge and across my bed to reach something; the pose reminded me of you. i have the strongest urge, feeling something i've been denied for months. i want to bare my shoulders, my back, my hips, and feel your hands cover the terrain as i arch and press against, and wait for you. a ghost finger races its way across the expanse of the skin on my back. it feels like a candle's flicker, as it .....

what an exercise of verbal futility. how do words encompass the loss i feel? a pointless loss. it wasn't a love that weakened, that got battered by lack of interest or miscommunication or betrayal or boredom. how do i tell you what i'm feeling? what would you say? do i put you in an awkward position or suffer in silence? i miss you 'til forever. i miss you , and all the tears i'll ever cry aren't enough to drown and purge my need for you. how does real love, THE love, turn into unrequited love? this is such a mistake.

2007-11-22T20:24:00.000-08:00

i need to become the light.
not the bright, glaring light of mid-day.
not the colored hues that come just before light fades...
i need to become the hue that's richest, fullest-
full of reds and golds and emphemeral
shots of the fullness of being.

there is a time when love is ripe-
i just need to be by the tree,
ready when it's right to pick.
if it's fallen by my feet,
then it's past the time when i
would think of biting into the flesh.

but when it's just right,
i can feel the firm flesh give way to
something
sweeter, jucier, redder, golder, greener
than anything in my basket before.
flecks of juice dot the corners of my mouth
as i eat the radiance that time and light and air have brought.

it is then that i feel the seeds of forever settle into my being.

Another Day

2007-10-29T08:54:00.000-07:00

I woke up cold. I slept with the window open-the one right next to my bed.

The night before, I talked to you. Sitting in a park, on a bench, in the cold. Barefoot. Sobbing, shaking....."Please tell me you miss me, that you talk about me to someone!" (of course i do. i miss you. do you think this has been easy for me?) "But we're perfect for each other. You know it's true." (yes, we are. but i had to make this decision) "I'm not sorry for saying these things, for falling apart; you've had longer to deal with this." (i know. you need to say them. i don't mind. i'm listening.) It was late, and I was exhausted.

Later, after the sun rose, I felt hollow, transparent in the slanted morning light. Still exhausted, instead of calling you--you'd said we'd talk later in the day--I called someone else. (hey! you feeling better? you didn't sound too good when you left that voicemail in the middle of the night) "I'm ok. Will you to take me to breakfast?" (damn, i can't. i have to help someone move today.) "That's ok, maybe it's better that way." (what? why?) "Just...uh.....I don't know." He laughed. (you're crazy, woman). I laughed. "Is that a bad thing? I'll talk to you later. Have fun moving."

I texted him a few minutes later. **I said it's probably better bcuz I was going 2 ask u 2 come get in bed w/me & hold me first. & maybe u don't wanna be a substitute bed warmer**

*(yes i do)*

I woke up cold, and I wanted him to warm me up. Imagining you doing it hurt too much. I wanted to fit my smaller body into the curve of his bigger body and feel his arms around me. I love you, but I needed his warmth. I wanted to feel his hands hold mine, to stroke my hair, to feel his breath on my neck and tell me I'm going to survive this. He doesn't expect me to be whole, and I don't expect him to be you... it seemed like a good enough fit.

Time Wounds All Heels

2007-10-26T16:47:00.000-07:00

The problem with being heartbroken is that we rarely get to go somewhere to lick our wounds. It's hard to heal because we have to string ourselves along through the day-to-day, pretending that we're fine. I day-dream about boarding a plane for Italy, where I'd live the life of an itinerant poet/photographer/paramour. In this fantasy, lithe, sleek men with names like Marcello and Marco woo me with flowers, expensive leather shoes, and carafes of sparkling Italian wine. That would heal my pain. But I digress....

Which is better for piecing yourself back together: loud, rangy, big paroxyms of angry grief, or the quiet, well-behaved compact existence that doesn't require more than an extended tissue to dry your tears or a pat on the shoulder?
"Time heals all wounds."
Poorly timed outbursts of uncontolled emotion scare people. Brave faces and stiff upper lips scare me. How do I reconcile my need to explode upon today's page with a hestitation to misbehave?
"Time wounds all heels."

I'll have to leave that conundrum dangling in mid-air; my kids are hungry, and it's time to fix supper.

Love Bird

2007-10-01T04:47:00.000-07:00

Your brilliant hummingbird wings
Whispered their breath on my petals,
Before you dipped your proboscis
Into the sweet nectar of survival.
My corolla quivered at their fluttering vibration,
Blushing a deeper red at the orange and green salute.
The mystery of give and take was revealed to me in stages
As you hovered, then retreated.
Each time your forked tongue
Greedily took in more nectar.
My scent, my color attracted you,
And you drank until my sweetness was gone.
I heard your whispery retreat.

Now I am left with quivering petals
And a deep red blush, straining
To hear the humming again.

{Repost...I'm recycling old material these days}

Lavar

2007-10-01T04:45:00.000-07:00

Rain falls lightly, steadily.
A tub of velvety, heated water with fragrant bubbles
sits in the middle of a grove.
Brilliant green fronds glisten with the moisture
Heaven has bestowed on a grateful jungle.
I float amidst the wet on wet on wet:
sky, earth, body.
Steamy water envelops me.
Cool drops launch a pleasant assault on my exposed skin-
that which does not sink beneath the cover.
The earth wears a lush fragrance of renewal;
it is verdant, fertile.

I am a companion in this ritual of cleansing,
floating in a womb.
Fears, aches melt away in the heat.
Droplets descend on me from the treetops-a covering roof-
making music as they couple with surfaces exposed.
Color, fragrance, sound: my senses are full, stretched but not broken.
I am clean, covered-invulnerable for the moment.

A Lifetime of Sundays

2007-02-10T21:29:00.000-08:00

My heart is the universal hand, pulling you back to me.
You're gone from my daily life.
I smell your pillow, hoping to catch your scent
My fingers are frustrated when they grasp only air
instead of hair over skin, skin over muscle.
But-I'd rather feel this chasm in my life
than try to fill it with someone less...you.

You've given me the improbable things I dreamed of:
laughter, desire, passion, learning, compassion, possibility.
You grabbed me tightly and I didn't struggle to get away.

Imagine a lifetime of Sunday mornings in which we can practice being
strong, vulnerable, satisfied but not complacent, more and less ourselves.
Imagine practicing patience and kindness in morning love, in afternoon calm.
I miss those hours in bed; there were no holes filled with unrequited yearning.
There were glances, kisses, embraces that grew hot and sweaty.
You filled me with you and I gladly accepted what you had to give.
This time we have apart will serve as a reminder of things to look forward to-
things like a lifetime of Sundays.

I'll See You Soon

2007-01-29T20:33:00.000-08:00

I cried tonight because
I thought I had wrecked the printer.
You weren't here to fix it
(although I could do it myself);
you weren't here to hold me.
They (my girls) covered my grief
(and their apprehension)
with tissues and bottled water.
"Mommy? Do you want a drink?
I brought you some toilet paper to
blow your nose."
My heart broke again.
I managed a leaking smile and a wobbly "thank you,"
then covered my head and cried some more.
Later, the phone rang-
it was you.
"I love you, baby. I'll see you soon."
Friday, I'll see your face and feel your touch.
I can hold on until then.

Hungry

2007-01-02T19:53:00.000-08:00

I'm hot
and restless
and wet.
Rather than being relaxed, having emerged from my bath,
I am hungry-
hungry for your touch.
I miss the warm whisper of your olive skin, your lips on my lips, our legs intertwined.
You complete me, and now that you're gone,
I'm incomplete.

Mi Corazon

2006-10-03T18:55:00.000-07:00

(Eyes and hair and skin)
Green and black and brown:
they're my new favorite colors.

Part of You

2006-09-29T22:29:00.000-07:00

I want to become part of you,
so I stare into your green eyes
and run my fingers through your hair.
I trace your lips.
Your arms around me tighten, and
I am ready to touch you some more.

Fibers

2006-09-23T16:22:00.000-07:00

My hands have been stronger
than my heart, I think.
My fingers would grasp and hold on to
something longer than the fibers of
my heart could.
My hope is for an intertwining which does
not unravel this time.

To Be

2006-09-13T17:34:00.000-07:00

Your eyes
cover me
like hands,
and I want to be
all I see within in them.

Your hands
cover me
like eyes,
and I want to be
all I feel underneath them.

Your body
covers me,
and I want nothing more
than to be.

Struggle

2006-09-10T22:44:00.000-07:00

I visited a blog where the idea is to post a poem everyday. I recently complained to someone that I've lost my "voice," so this may be a struggle. But I will try.

Hands.
Fingers clicking on keys.
I hit the Return button
and wait for a moment of passion
to surge.
Expression, not forthcoming, eludes
the capture by impatient ears,
straining to hear the Voice.
A choice becomes a burden,
and my fingers cease to move.

Converging

2006-08-20T07:18:00.000-07:00

Converging with perfection, briefly,
I grasp whatever's near and feel the rush.
This is when I feel most alive.