Hands, plural to make us one
Near the end of August the heat told me to stop
It's vicious, wanting you
No milder than the jaws of winter

And every person not you cuts
On the street, our wounded lips
Before October and on silver screens
Your face projected on everything

You wanted the cinema, I thought
So I spoke fumbled niceties at your door
But the camera was stuck in my eye

And the words I scripted shifted into your mouth
The breaths I take, the breaths I shout
Your smile corroded in the rain
Your endless longing,
My endless shame

It keeps me in this thought
That what I feel has no name
But the credits crept up with the dregs of December
Money is noisy, and I liked your quietudes

But the snow will blanket my blood-buoyant bright
And I will drown into night
To lay by you until dawn
To lay by you until you are gone

As a challenge
I want to give you all
"Birthday"
As a theme
Come with your
Fabulous ideas.
Thanks in advance.
Sep 3rd
I was landed from
Heaven
Like all of you
It's an open challenge
Any one can participate

Lady Chatterley
found her love
Her lover
the woodsman
In love

I should go to bed but going to bed means waking to another day. At least in the dark, underneath the stars with a cigarette in hand, I can hide the pain from my mother and pretend as if her cancer doesn't exist.

There was an army of ants in the plastic plants
So I poured light through a magnifying glass
And I created a fire on the artificial grass

They scurried and hurried
with flames on their backs
Like soldiers on a hopeless plain,
searching for invisible barracks

And I sighed as they died,
because we are all the same:
Scurrying and hurrying from invisible pain

Moving On from Moving On
June 11, 2014 at 11:36pm
Musings by Vivvy Walker

When I got divorced people were helpful and understood
I was moving on.
They knew it was a BIGGIE
A big, huge, ginormous time in my life
I was moving on.

They helped me. I helped me.
Everyone was familiar with the process.
The pitfalls. The backtracks.
The wins. The successes.
I was moving on.

And now I am firmly entrenched in vague territory.
I have moved on.
And I need to move on. From moving on.
I moved. I packed. And unpacked.
All the baggage. Physical and emotional.

I am post-moving on
I am done.
I no longer need to work ridiculous hours.
Or raise my girls alone.
Or be alone.

I always thought it would be easy when I was done
Moving on.
But it is hard
To reprioritize yet again.
To reorganize my life & thoughts (yet again)

To adjust
To be laid-back. And free. And funny.
I have to constantly remind myself
I'm no longer moving on
That chapter has closed.

It is time for my voice
To be heard.
For my dreams.
To be realized.
For me

I think of the men and women who- like me
Have moved on
And I raise a glass
Coffee, wine, beer, *****
Drink with the little umbrella

I toast you
The changelings, the chameleons
The doers, the movers
And shakers
Those crazy laughing' probies'
Of life post divorce

I toast you
The tortoises
The 'long run' winners
Those plodding wonderful people
Of life post-divorce

I toast you
My fellow butterflies
My new wing-having friends
All those who cried
And then didn't anymore
Post-divorce

I toast you
For bravery
And audacity
And showing me how to move on
From moving on
Post-divorce


~Vivvy Walker 6/12/14