Fibromyalgia Checklist

The back of my head
underneath my hair
my neck
the span of my shoulders

the sides of my breasts
the curve of my ass
my heart and its trip rush beat

my elbows
my hands
my hips when I stand
my thighs
and behind my knees

my calves
my ankles
my feet
all of me

seems to hurt

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Four-Footed

It's the lack of wildness
that's turning me wild
and feral
in this furnished space;
curving my spine,
bending me four-footed,
animal.

Animal -
beautiful
spirit of suburban streets.
Four-footed,
feral,
an animal.

Four-footed -
an animal -
I tear at the civilized skin.
Swift to the scent of the marrow

of this furnished space where blood has been
bending me
four-footed
animal.

Playing at being "megafauna" (an animal greater than 100 pounds) for Gillena's prompt at Real Toads

Small

I'm so small and all
I see around me is so big.
I dig and dig and dig

for a mustard seed of faith in me
to sprout;
can't find a twig.

How am I supposed to move
that mountain
great and tall,

when I'm so small
so very small and all?

For Marian's prompt at Real Toads

I Wonder

Every early morning,
I watch light cure the dark;
still, I wonder if there is a god.

I have opened my body
to seed and seeking fingers,
have arched into teasing tongues;
still I wonder if there is a god.

I have stretched skin inside myself,
safe guarded a soul into the world.
I bear the mark of connection on my belly still;
still,
I wonder.
I wonder.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Shallow (Under The Skin)

Turn me inside out
and all you'll find
is leftover whine
(I need more rest)
and a heart blood hope
that thrums my chest -
what's next

has got to be better.

For Poetry Pantry at Poets United

Ugly Americans

Pissing in the streets,

lying to police,

cover of the scandal sheets -

the best the we could bring

to the games?

Oh, the shame!

Ugly Americans.

For Kerry's "not what we came to see" prompt at Real Toads.

This Dream Is Fraught With Meaning

The road is straight enough,
but it needs work.
Cars rough and tumbleweed
to stay between the ditches.
A billboard leans in the wind;
cracked, peeling, but constant
in my passenger side eye.
This Dream Is Fraught With Meaning
in Comic Sans.

"You know that much about music?" he asks.
I don't care for his tone,
his insistent hands,
or the crush of his too shiny boots.
Why, yes, I do, friend.  That and more.
I know that a waltz is not a two step
no matter how
you dust the floor.

For Fireblossom Friday at Real Toads

That Sleepless Summer

of heat and grieving,
it wasn't enough to nurse my mother,

I also had to make sweet to her cat -
a leonine, lacking in all social graces
ragdoll named Annie.

Annie slept with her claws out;
spit, hissed, and scratched
at passing bare feet;

curled atop my mother's chest
and dared my efforts at care.
I hated her,

and she hated me, the intruder.
But as mama faded,
more and more often

I would wake from my rocking chair doze
to find that cat in my lap purring comfort;
she knew, I know, that loss was close.

Close to both of us.
Close as a shallow breath to silence.

For Midweek Motif ~ Cats at Poets United

A Life

1952-2014

Mother.
Daughter.
Grandmother.
Wife.
A life.

Kennedy.
King.
A man on the moon.

Joplin.
Hendrix.
Gone too soon.

Nixon.
Carter.
Oil boom and bust.

Nursing
and farming
and working too much.

Loving hard.
Loving unwise.
Loving reckless with wide open eyes.

Murrah.
McVeigh.
Nine One One.

Osama.
Obama.
Wars undone.

Wandering lost.
Wandering home
to the arms of her savior.
Dates carved in stone.

Mother.
Daughter.
Grandmother.
Wife.
A life.

For my mother.  

Submitted to Poetry Pantry at Poets United

Loco Time

Black mesa eyes.
Thighs banking honey creek.
Loco local time -
when 2 foxes 3.

String the broken bow.
Broken arrow - snap!
Lone wolf low.
Dog days swallowed by the cat.

Note: edited since first posted.

For Get Listed at Real Toads.  Black Mesa, Honey Creek, Loco, Fox, Broken Bow, Broken Arrow, Lone Wolf are all places in Oklahoma.

Now That I'm Grown

Now that I'm grown,
I want to know

how I used to bareleg tramp
through unmown pastures
without getting so much as an itch,

what magic ingredient made Vick's
salve a cure-all in my Grannie's hands,

and when simple stray cats turned
so fearsome and feral.

For The Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Medicine's Altar

At the cardiac clinic, my grannie
allows the first test, but refuses the next.
"I'm not afraid my heart will stop," she says.
"Just that it'll falter."

In that moment, I know
how much I've grown
since living my mother's death.
It hurts to lose someone less
than to see them meat
on medicine's altar.

55 words for Kerry at Real Toads

After Fasting

I've fasted all night, and my eyes
are hungry for light to blind
the second sight of my bad dreams.
I crave blooms and birds to sing fifths and thirds -
that wild mix
of harmony.
Sing, world, sing!
Words emerge, not by will,
but by waiting.
Sounds shape syllables.  Syllables
settle on my shoulders and whisper in my ears
Be gentle with the morning.
And, I am, for a moment, I am.
Soon enough, though, my eyes wander towards work.
There are weeds in the zinnias,
the tomatoes need water,
and it's getting hotter by the minute.
I remember that last night's dream had a grackle in it.
His feathers were pressed flat against a pane of glass;
he was trapped and struggling to get outside.
Now, awake, I wonder at a blue sky
alive with flight -
black wings cutting through white clouds
like words on a page.

An rough draft for Stacie's prompt at Real Toads

Stars

I will write my love in stars;
let every letter burn and fall
bright - my wishes where you are.

My want is strong enough by far
to shrink the world between us small.
I will write my love in stars.

Need is wild within my heart,
beating thunder at the walls
tonight - my wishes where you are.

I love with every piece and part;
my skin, my cells - you have it all.
I will write my love in stars.

So let a longing for me start.
A want, a need, a love; call -
don't fight - my wishes where you are.

I'll split the earth that keeps us apart
if you give me any hope at all.
I will write my love in stars -
light - my wishes where you are.

For the Tuesday Platform at Real Toads

Thank you for all the good wishes for my husband.  He's recovering, but he's pretty miserable (I'll have to recover from his recovery!).

If you're interested, I have some poems featured at Sick Lit Magazine.  Check them out and let me know what you think!