wading

it will take time. thousands of

ticks will sound from the second hand,

its impatient little foot dancing on our eardrums.

we will watch the sun inch above the soft treetops. with

each tick, it will grow higher; with each tick, we will

grow closer. it will take time, darling, so

wait with me.

it will be a while. hundreds of

waves will crash over our heads,

their strong swirling hands tangling our hair.

we will hear the waves sizzle as they recede. with

each wave, the sound will grow louder; with each wave, we will

grow closer. it will be a while, darling, so

wade with me.

"Or...are you a tease?"

“Daniel,” she croaks. The shifting gravel in her voice drops into her stomach with a feeble cough. Her pale legs are spotted with the alcoholic rage from the night before; only the whites of her eyes show as her heavy eyelids droop with fatigue. Her papery lips crinkle as she takes a drag of a newly glowing cigarette. The ashtray balancing on the tattered arm of the couch is a graveyard, filled with half-buried skeletons and fading embers. Muscles writhe under her pockmarked skin as she lifts her arm to pull away the cigarette from her mouth. Her bones shift as her clenched jaw opens and she calls: “Daniel, come here.”

Silence.

“Daniel, I said come here. Don’t make me come up there. Son of a bitch.” A half-hearted chuckle escapes her shriveled lungs. “I guess that makes me a bitch. Well, cheers.” Heaving forward, she snatches the glass of wine off the table. The glass sweats nervously, tickling her dry fingertips. She sighs as the familiar burn soothes her throat.

(I don't know if I'm going anywhere with this...)

iamb a fan of free verse

i have outgrown the sweater my heart
was pinned to. i have cast it away to pout
with the rest of the rags on my closet floor. and
there it sits, stained with salty rivulets, tainting the
groaning, ancient wood.

i have no use for the shoes i was asked
to fill. i have cast them away to weigh down
the world's expectations. and there they stand,
worn soles, treading on the groaning, ancient wood.

i have put on my old suit. and it still fits just right.

as we tarry there

look up, child, and forget your

stumbling feet. drink in the stars and

stand in awe as Orion spins cartwheels

above you. but shrink down as his arrow slices

thin clouds and topples over great

mountains. skip between the avalanches and

laugh with the nightingales--drown out the

whispers of your troubles. hide between dull

blades of grass and wait for the shadows

to pass over you. in time, downy feathers will

fall from the circling vultures.

look up, child. It will be alright.