What would make her dress
even better? Pockets, for
her mom’s hands to hide.
I took some pills to
help me fall asleep. They are
not Xanax, at least.
The souls dibble-dabble and entwine in time with the rain even when the lakes dry up.
Tears can compensate.
The laughter echoes.
The heartbeats sing.
And death does a slow dervish dance around it all.
Joy I seek and joy I find. In the unopened email from the two initials that crack my heart open and stitch it back up together all in one never-ending moment of sublime terror.
I’m stuck between my mom and my brother and two conjoined snowflakes.
One resembles death and the other birth and each is unique and magical and transcendent and filling and empty and unassuming and camouflaged like blood beneath mud.
The middle of a triangle is where I’ve started to build a house yet to be called home. A moat of three straight lines protects me and traps me but doesn’t know the spring I have in my step.
I can jump, you know.
He responded back and that was enough for me. I tried to build a fire out of his love letters, but they were all trapped inside screens and left the flames starving for words he left out of his songs just for me left to collect kindling for messages left unsent feeling left behind.
No, he didn’t forget me. The first and the last initial pause in suspended breath before a match bursts with the stroke of my index finger over the silence of the words I will wait to read.
I am not that kind
of person. I am a home
searching to be home.
I love how i can
fall asleep knowing these things
I know about you.
There was a time when the
Sirens came for me. In 12-hour intervals, they would come. At 6:00AM and at 6:00PM. At 5:00 and 5:00 sometimes too at 8:00 and 8:00. They needed 12 full hours give or take 15 minutes at most.
Sirens call in a unique pattern.
Unlike demons who possess a soul with a full depth leading some boys to madness and some men to insanity.
Coffee can cure a siren outbreak. The morning shift gets washed away with the dark brown.
But that later call in the evening or at night is a battle. And who wants to fight with sirens? Like i said, sirens are not like demons most folks know. A siren can can soothe and calm or irritate and annoy. Always, though, she alarms. No one sleeps through a siren. Attempts to drown her out may occur but are not always successful. Take a big drink of water every five minutes if the visitation is after 8:30PM.
She needs hydration.
All of the women and lost souls do. We need hydration
Or is it lubrication?
I know i need fornication.
All of the men need an explanation or a realization.
When the sirens just want all their own relaxation on my bed or in my car or at my coffee table.
 | Frank Giglio on Haiku’d secrets |
| Mary Fae Smith | L.K… on What Woman Wants | |
 | Elle on Let’s talk Urination |
 | Kristi Bernard on Another’s Words. My… |
 | Mom on Mother’s Day Epilogue |
