I am the last
of the white hot nobodies,
burning out to ash
in a vacuum of cold silence.
Don’t cry for me;
I won’t remember my own pain
in but a moment.
All is well.
The Honeymoon is Over
To Begin Again
It is hard to start over,
hard to begin again,
when the lines you think
you might color outside
turn out to be not lines,
not grooves, but chasms.
Inside and outside,
they are the borders
that keep you where you are
unless you are willing
to lose yourself inside them
before you come out
the other side.
The only way
I have ever been able to
was to know I had
someone waiting for me
on the other side.
A new start,
without anything
I have ever known.
Could I ever find the strength
to make that leap
without you?
More importantly,
must I?
Ends of Things
Maybe you will recognize some of these as the ends of stories, movies, plays, pieces of my fiction, songs, iconic moments in pop culture, or even moments in your own lives.
I’ll bet we share a bunch of the last category in common, without even knowing it.
Happy New Year, everyone. See you on the flip side.
* * *
“No.”
“…and they lived happily ever after.”
“Amen.”
“I’ll be right here.”
“You.”
“Only ever love.”
“And all was well.”
“…Because it’s always you.”
“…I’ll have a Coke.”
“Will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
“My God, it’s full of stars.”
“…but a whimper.”
“Please.”
“Hit it.”
“That’s a good idea. Let me hold your monkey.”
“I had to be your undoing.”
“You’re not in this for the hunting, are you?”
“…and if no one’s caught him yet, he’s out there, still.”
“–pation.”
Coming Through
Splendor within the ripples of a glass of red; if you’re reading this, she holds it to her lips and he watches her drink. He watches her swallow. He watches the way you’ve been in a coma her throat moves as the taste of the grape, sweet and thick, for over ten years rolls past her tongue and down into the heart of her, warming her from the inside out. There is a fire tonight, but we’re trying a new technique it does not give as much heat as the wine does, once it burns its way out from her center.
When we don’t know where she drinks, she moves like a great cat, sinuous, sensuous, liquid, and made of grace. I believe this will show up she is hunger personified, thirst made solid, in your dream, desire made flesh. I watch her milk skin and blue eyes, but we hope and have been in love with the red of her hair for what feels like millenia. If we’re getting through. anyone can warm me tonight, please wake up it will be her.
At This Waking
At this waking, she puts her hands out in front of her so that she can see them, and she discovers they are youthful, bearing strength and grace, and she uses them to fling off covers. There is one sneaker, old and dirty, on her foot, and she crows in delighted laughter, running for the mirror to see herself. She does not remember a time in which she went to bed wearing shoes that dirty; perhaps this is a new time. The mirror, though, shows that this is before, except she remembers all the befores.
“This must be a new one,” she says aloud, laughing, and she runs, in her nightgown, out of the room, down the stairs.
Her parents don’t quite wake from their exhausted stupor, not to hear the front door shut, nor to hear the echo of her laughter.
She runs, one shoe off, one shoe on, down familiar streets, breath fogging in the cold.
It’s colder than it should be, but she doesn’t mind.
When she gets to the address, the mailbox on the street has ‘D. McManus’ written on the side, and she blows it a kiss, laughing delightedly. It’s the middle of the night, but the light is on. The light is on because they left it on for her.
She runs up the front walk, laughing so hard she can feel the tears in her eyes; everything is brilliant, like Christmas lights in her eyes, even with the cold snow, even while she is teeth-chattering and feeling the sleepsweat in her hair freeze.
She bangs on the door, dancing foot to foot on the porch, and when the door opens, she throws her arms around him and presses her cheek to his chest, breathing in the scent of heat and smoke, baby shampoo and whisky.
She speaks, and it’s riddle and answer all at once: “I don’t know if you remember me, but I wanted to say thank you. You saved my life.”