Those leather and wooden snakes
That undulate like the real thing,
I am that stealthy.

Sliding up beside
Your regular tea and
Cell phone,
Slipping onto your key ring,
And then next to your morning alarm.

Soon, I will disappear and you will
Miss me
Everywhere.

This day is a quiet bead

I don't need to fall apart today,
I think I'll be ok, rolling hills on the chart,
Not sharp peaks and jagged valleys.

I will not invent a new way to explore my mind
And odds are I won't write a book
Perhaps my chief achievement today will be a really good
Cup of tea and to pat a friend on the back.

Every day does not have to be purple.

I won't count this as a day that slipped
Off the string and fell into the dust, losing its
Glitter forever. I will count this as a
Matte bead, spacing out the dazzling ones
to better show them off.

next day

Morning after,
and at work, the
Cold tea calms my cough.

I focus on the screen,
Absently touching
My neck and shoulders,
gently poking till
I find a sore spot,
A bruise.

Then I
Remember
In a rush that
Makes me smile,
Flush,
Close my eyes
For a split second.

The rain reminds me to get
Back to work.

November

Pulled into a ball, in the corner,
Lap opened only for the cat, who
Does not stay.
I pull it around me tighter, this
Loneliness, wear it
Like a scarf,
Like armour,
Like a cloaking device.

Look through me, I
Am not here.
All that I was is gone,
And this dustball that is left
Will soon tumble away
With the next inconsequential breeze.

these words

These words are blood
ripped from my veins
wrists spurting raw thoughts, not
enough to really drain me,
not real or deep enough to hurt,
but a great show, a
performance
designed to make you
look.

I whore my heart, my
thoughts, my
gift for a focused moment
of your precious
intention
an interlude of
your
attention.

Since I am
a shadow, though,
this will pass with
the night.

dark man

unexpected, a
message from another place,
rock tattoos, clark kent glasses
devastating smile.

surprised,with
intelligence, humour,
interest. I was an
understudy to this drama

watching terrible
horror films, his hand
grazed my thigh.
Like a mythic slavic count, like
a hero of countless harlequin novels,
he rose, commanded,
dark hair flowing over
vampire caresses.

I had forgotten
how it felt
to be
mastered, and
i surrendered.

after, I
nursed my
bruises with
wanton
pride, hoped
and feared
he would call again.

whispers

He will be
funny, in the unexpected way of
the alcoholic that made me
fall in love
and in the sweet, smart
sardonic way of the boy I love-hated
in grade five;
He will be strong, stable,
like the ex husband that was
my protector, even if
he never understood me
He will be sparks and fire and larger than life
Pyrotechnics like a concert that
Moves me beyond this quotidian
Veiled existence.
He will love me, madonna,
whore,
little child,
lost soul,
pragmatic nerd,
and
whatever lies beneath.

And he is nearly
here.