"With this on one hand
and that on another
I could never find the words
to get across the boxes
I only knew the letters going down
and in the space between
each note, the silence between
the sounds my heart follows
the beats of the songs and poems
never read, meeting a dull ache"
A tornado is formed by two things:
cold and heat
the frosty cold front blows from the
North and dances with the warm dust gusts
from the South waltzing in a circle
the hiss of steam on the
cold lips of the Canadian front
as they kiss releases a vortex
of rain and wind, a whirling dervish
loose across the prairie,
chased by vans and satellites
The worms weave themselves
over the magnolia leaves
glistening like ribbons from the ground
moon light hits the sodden boughs
creating fireworks around the dying
flowers perking up for one last kiss
from the rain.
But you don't see any of this.
You're asleep, away, alone.
And I am awake, aware, alone.
Watching the worms weave over
the magnolia leaves, pulling the
petals into the ground.
Like a dug up miscarriage
you're nothing like you could have been
concieved in shame and born in sin
your half formed bones peeking out
fomr your skin, half human
Yet as I stand above your little mound
hands colored with the grime and ground
my curiousity is sated.
You're not the beautiful baby I've been mourning;
You're the monstrosity I hated.
Half torn, half born
rotting in the ground
half formed, half born
you'll never be found.