Tag Archives: roots

Older Sister

Our sister

Puts up

with your shit

She should please you

in all ways

two kids

one man

Working

conservative

and cunning

But you still

cut her down

Her hair

Her weight

Her ways

You should know

She’s your only ally

Out of three

To a mother

you love no more

You should treat her better

than bitter children,

who know better

 

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Seance

Awake again

I haunt the halls

of my own home

a wandering spirit

possessed by

the ghost of

my still living

mother

she moves in me

stirring and stretching

half past the witching hour

she rises

a wrestles wraith

like her I leave

poisonous plumes

of hazy violet

smoke signals of our

time traveling

seance

Goddess Song

My body isn’t quiet,

nor still,

It moves,

elegantly sleek

or unladylike undulations

duality in design.

my voice, rumbles

like thunder

my intellect strikes

like lightening

Quick and hot

I make fire

and fan flames

it is mine

It is home

a shape

punctuated with

slight flare

that swells out

my breast

and the bones

of my hips

Upturned nipples

smile rosily at me

from below

Long legs open

and part

Like the lips of a young girl

With the smile

of a knowing woman

and the cleverness of the crone

 

Through the arch of my foot

I move mountains

 

In every woman

the soul of a predator

in the body of prey

making men humble

since before the trick of time

Home

Ohio is a home

I belong to

but no more

from the shores of Erie

to the edge of Appalachia

To the woods of the west

I belong there

no more

The bright lights

of Columbus and Cleveland

can’t hide

hate

an empty aching bitterness

of every forgotten rural town

Crumbling Industry entombs all

the dead

left to rot

like a child’s toy

rust coated

from ample rains

hidden in a forest

of overgrown ferns

scents of sweet corn

and honeysuckle

can’t hide or blur

that bitterness

rusting and rotting

forgotten hearts

harboring fear

a home

no more

 

Homer

My home

A child’s hand-me-down

three times over

Broken, rusted, 10 years old

sits in piles

of trash and torn earth

Forgotten and Abandoned

My home

A Camel

dangling

daintily

From a curved lip

in a seamed face

My home

Is cheap beer

drank from sweating cans

in the sweat soaked hands

of cheaper women

My home

is a mutt barking

Its chain biting

the tender flesh

Of its choked neck

My home

is red faced men

With too little work

and too much time

Their hands

Bloody and bruised

from bar fights

and bedroom brawls

Their children’s faces

dirty and poor

dreaming of escape

destined to stay