him as he was
when time was on his side
and he was young
green as spring
when roses bud
so, I could thaw him out
and he could melt
in a strawberry puddle
in my mouth

I'd freeze
myself as I was
when butterflies danced
in my tummy
and stars sparkled
in hazel eyes
and the world
surprised me
all the time

I'd freeze
us as we were
warm as a pair of mittens
nestled and snug
purring as sleeping kittens
milky and downy
life was a plate
of chocolate brownies

so, I can pop
the top off
and go back to bed. Pick
a blonde or red head

to do the job instead. I can
switch the body if I gained
a little weight if I’m not
in great shape. So, interchangeable

as this, and all before
breakfast! I would not have to
change clothes. Just pop the top
and out I goes.

in your head, as you turn
down the violet sheets in your bed to climb
inside. Leave the canvas white. Don’t fill
it up with mountains and sky. How can you

hear a thing she says with a boombox
pounding between your ears? How can you
see the tears she's shed with striped shades pulled
over your eyes? How can she add her piece

when the pages are cluttered with
your beliefs, sneaking in the dark as
covered black thieves. Stealing all the apples
from the trees you planted outside.

will be the last
there will be. Five years
down the drain. Thank god
for the bottle;
that’ll relieve the pain. He got
all high and mighty
because I said he wimped out
of his dreams to be
a rock star. He wrote
that famous song that
Rod Stewart sings. Been to Hollywood,
was introduced to Burt Bacharach
at a party among other things. I think
I touched a nerve. I think hit a button. But
with this type of man, it’s better to say
nothing because the eggshells that line
the floor makes it extremely difficult
each time he opens the door into
the room where his fragile ego lays. Hell,
I can wipe the yolk off the bottom now;
because today was my very last day.

at the center
of a burnt down forest. I walk barefoot
among the char. The smell of death
circling me as halo. I’ve been singed. But I forget

the burning.  I see whiffs of smoke
poke their tales out of holes in the ground. I think
of them as squirrels. But when I look
all is still. It’s only a murmur

of uncertainty. The faint light
plays hide and seek. I try to follow it. But it leads
me to more fallen trees that have blackened
and blended with the leaves.

in the woods with the dancing trees
and melodic birds than on the streets
hearing the cutting words of men.

I’d like to be alone
on the shore with the spraying ocean breeze
and the seagulls at my feet
than falling for the same thing again.

I'd like to be alone
by the stream hearing the trickle
of water running over the rocks
than in the presence of fickle men.

I'd like to be alone
atop a mountain looking out
at the azure sky, seeing the eagle
fly with paper and pen.

These abused children
grow up to be the neurotic
adults you see. You encounter them

at work, in the stores, in the gym
in your own therapist, a homonym of
the latter. What’s it matter? It

matters everything. They go on spreading
the germ, like a worm in an apple. God didn’t make
little green apples to be eaten by worms

in the rink.
He wears no
padded gloves,
instead opts for

brass knuckles. To hit
and not be hit
you must have rhythm
and wit. You got to

dance inside the
ropes. You can’t rely solely
on hope. You’ll get your
share of punches, nose

bleeds and aching
muscles.  There’s not
always a referee to
oversee, especially as an

adult. You’ve got to do it
yourself. And when you’re
down for the count you must
muster the strength to stand up.

He was supposed to help me,
not help himself to me.
Supposed to show me
how to help myself,
not help myself to his body.
He was supposed to listen to me,
not the sound of his gaudy voice.

I was supposed to leave healed,
not broken pieces sealed in an envelope,
after pushing the bounds down the slippery *****.
It was supposed to last a few months,
not sixteen years.
It was supposed to cost me in dollars -
not a life in squalor and tears.

an apple
round and green
hanging on the tree
you picked me
and took a bite
discarding my core
you took as you did
and didn’t want more

I once was
a tissue
soft and light
lying in a brightly colored box
nestled with the others on top
you pulled me out
wiped up the crud
leaving me stained
and useless –
a dud

I was once
a rainbow
violet, blue, red, green
orange and yellow
an arch in the azure sky
you crossed me
painting me black
and not looking back

I once was
a thought
that floated in the reverie
of a man's head
golden as the sunset
mellifluous as a song
warm as a bubble bath
till his head filled
with dates and numbers
headlines and lunch
and I was snuffed out
as a candle in the wind
my light dimmed

where the trees are
my home. No walls or
doors/no ceilings or floors. The dirt
between my toes. A scent of pine

dancing under my nose. The wind
blowing my hair. A log for my
chair. The bellowing of the bullfrog. Sedges
and heaths by the bog. The tat-tatting

of the woodpecker. No hat or
coat checkers. No small talk
where men flock to gawk at woman
in pairs. The azure sky and country

air. Woody vines/not long lines
or the weight of a heavy stare. No red satin
dresses. Here you won’t find stresses. The only
thing running is the river. A sliver of paradise

without a price. And the stars don’t sue/just shine
in a paisley-colored sky.

in the gut
with a fist full of apples
from the trunks of his eyes,
cutting me in pieces

like ma's hot pies. Burnt as the
flambe', sliding off him, like whipped
cream. All part of a sick girl's
dream. Like Swiss cheese,
you can stick your finger through

the holes in me. The floating
noodle in the soup. Lying flat
and soggy, a clucking chicken
in the coop. Sitting on the

eggs. Thought I'd crack,
or less be scrambled. I shouldn't
have gambled on the man. Should
have seen the cleaver and ran!

that swing into your life and swing
back out again. Too hung up to call! Living in their
shanty walls. Fragmented pieces are tiles
on their floor. Sticks are their roof, that don't

waterproof the spoor. Their "welcome mat"
written in children's play chalk! Snow covers
the letters erased from a spring rain. I'm replaced
as a glass of champagne.

the green ground is
sky. I’m down in
the sewers,
the bowels of life,

a hole the rats
run rampant. Here I camp and
walk in the dank. The stench is
alarming in this waste-filled

tank. I haven’t seen
light after I fell in. I couldn’t tell
you exactly when. But I slipped
in like a mickey drink. At first

I'm flushed by this kink. The pain is
familiar. But I, bigger this
round. Too big for man to pull me
out of myself. So, I drowned.

she sits, a stone.
An ivory tower
as they drone.
Like a lilac flower

she blends in
the mauve curtains.
Drinking her tonic and gin.
The clink of ice and chit-chat.

She nods and smiles.
So still, she's sat
it pains her piles.
Women flutter

like butterflies.
Men stutter
straightening their ties.
Walking to the table

of crackers and cheese
she can't stable
her wobbling knees.
She takes a bite

and wipes her lips.
A smudge of pink
on her lace napkin.
Her hair piled high

with a hatpin.
She sips
her watered drink.
The lanky guy

blinks like a light.
His unzipped fly
makes her shrink
like bubbles in the sprite.

He weaves in and out
with an open mouth.
Talks with a drawl
like a hick from the south.

She's uninvited.
So, she can't decline.
Is she slighted?
Or out of line?

where is he? No answer on
his cell. Hell, I’m not standing
for this. It was just this afternoon I was
on his couch engaged in a kiss, and groping

session. Now it’s New Year’s Eve and almost
eleven and he’s not answering his phone. I’m
going to take my sorry bones down to his home
and find out myself just what he’s doing and who

he’s doing it with. Maybe this might be a
death wish. It’s a ten-minute drive-in agony
because I’m fantasizing of what awaits me. When I
get there the house is dark. I knock on the door. No

answer. I keep pounding away until something comes
out of the dark haze, groggy and confused. “What
time is it” he asks not amused. It’s 11:30, I tell him as I
walk right past the entrance. Where is she? Where is

Who? The girl you're hiding. There is no girl. Was I
delusional? I’ll find her myself. I walk up the stairs
to his bedroom. Nothing but a barren bed with the covers
drawn back. If there’s no one else then I’ll be the

one. So, I took off my clothes and climb
into it. And he said “Good God, there’s a naked PATIENT
in my bed” So he jumped in with me. And that’s how
we celebrated New Year’s Eve 2014!

for signs of life
line after line
some fall
some rise
but in the end
they always die

I keep checking
for homes
to place them
some haven’t any
two a place to lie
but in the end
they always die

I keep checking
the numbers
as if they were stock
and every point off
makes me scoff
as to why -
in the end
they always die

like the cow over the moon
like the horse jumping the hurdle
you make my blood curdle
like an athlete vaulting the high bar
I've pushed you out of my head this far

I’m so over you
like a skydiver descending in a parachute
flying in the air
everything’s little up here

I’m so over you
I tell myself over and again
we aren't friends
and go to the ends of the earth
to show it
but sometimes I just blow it

What's it like on the inside
Before the day breaks?
Before your head aches?
You precariously hide
Sleeked
A blood orange lipstick smile

What's it like on the outside
After walking the street?
After feeling totally beat?
You notoriously cried
Streaked
As black graffiti on subway tile

an overlay, a coating
a charade. A colorful float
in the parade laid in metallic
and balloons. You’re a caricature,

a cartoon. You’re not
solid. You’re plated. You’re
created to tarnish. You’re the garnish,
not the meal. You’re the spoke

not the wheel. Both men and
women see you as a saint. But I see
you as you are -
a flake, a chip of paint.

You Could Read This As

one of your law books you’ve been studyin’
pulling an all-nighter instead of patyin’

the morning  newspaper on your coffee break
trying to keep your eyes open enough to stay awake

a suspense novel, that keeps you up at night
until you nod off to sleep, leaving on the light.

This is a love letter written from me to you
that I put together clear out of the blue

Without trepidation/without a hidden clause
Without a legal fee/within the context of the laws

A binding contract, initialed on the X
From a very attractive person of the opposite ***

in pieces, you shatter
as brains splattered from
the shot of a gun. Your insides
spill out like a puzzle, in red

blue, and yellow. You lay in
your waste as a baby in a day-old
diaper. Crawling out your head
a two-foot viper. Your limbs

unhitched, when only before they
held on by a stitch. Your eyes rolled
back. But the whites are not white. They're
stained satin black. And none of

the king's horses or the king's
men can put back your pieces together
again.

Began –
Then ran
Puzzled –
I was trouble
Wouldn’t give me a break
So, I escaped
Back to you

crystal shards
in ripped leotards
what is worst
than unquenchable thirst

She screams
perpendicular unicorns
with unventilated horns
is she heard?
not a word

She screams
wearing a smile
all the while
with her lips
stitched -
looking pretty
hiding the *****

She screams
inside her spaghetti
larger than a storming Yeti
what is colder
than dreams growing older?

of winter set in. And I wish the sun
was a soccer ball so I could
kick it higher in the sky, so high
I’d part the clouds with a comb, and

string them all together in a ponytail
so, they wouldn’t block the face
of earth. And as for the barren trees
who leaves have fallen like my breast that

look like burlap sacks I’d paint them all
in bouncing polka-dots so they’d resemble
rainbow sprinkles on top a birthday. Then I
would not have to eagerly wait for the coming

of another spring. Because color would
abound. And if the ground turned to
frost. I’d dye the dew a purple hue
that it would think it lavender. And then

it wouldn’t matter what the season be or what
the calendar said. Because believe you me
we’d paint the pretty picture in our head.

Don’t Get ****** Up

into the sands of another
Glistening/Reflective/Diaphanous
to see yourself passing through
the miniscule opening. Condensed in a droplet;

you’ll be the morning dew, clinging to
the blade. She’ll sharpen her teeth
on you. You’ll see her pockets as footholds. Only
to climb into something that gives

way. It’s easy to fall into quicksand. No one
to give you a helping hand. You’re sinking,
up to your neck in it. With due respect
I did warn you

before you stepped into the subterrain. It was
your biggest mistake. Tell me
before you lose consciousness
was it worth it? Was it worth all this pain?

Mickey Mouse
or Peter pan
Men like to hang
their head in la-la land

I'll not be silenced
or lured
not an illness
than can't be cured

I'm no Pollyanna
not restrained
like my nanna
that was trained
to smile
through all her pain

I'm not into chitter-chatter
reading and writing
is all that matters

I'm no poster child
runway model
just short and wild

I’d slip in through
your screen
without being seen
encircle you
as a gentle breeze
raising the hair
on your arm
as a dandelion
on the lawn

wrap around
your unbuttoned collar
waltzing under your shirt
as a six-leg crawler
making my nest
there in your chest
your heartbeat
makes me jump
as a toad
splashing out
of the water

if this makes me
odder
to not be seen
but living in
cut, cotton fabric
the trestles of bone
and shingles of skin
my home –
if I was the wind

too brutal for this world
we’re geniuses when we’re undisturbed
we need to run
so, we pick us speed
shot through a gun
we penetrate deep
we’ll twist the blade inside each skull
and masquerade as something else
but beneath it all
we’re devils on the hunt
that like the ***** and ****
and the thrill of the chase
we don’t belong in any place
wherever we are
we incinerate
baby, we’re savages

from the sun. Don’t expect me
to be warm. It's cold here on earth. All
the men wear masks. They don't
ask "how do you do". I can't see
their smiles. Their bodies skew.

I’m a million miles away
in my thoughts. Don’t expect
to find me. I’m lost in a reverie of
azure skies and crystal foam seas
of aqua green. I don't like
all I've seen.

I'm a million miles away
from this place. I can't face
another day living in the shadows,
hanging as a silhouette on
the wall. The red, white, and blue
has mixed to purple. Somebody broke
the circle that joined us all.

a wrinkled blouse inside out
seams and tags sticking out
you can see the fabric and the size
the cycle for washing
labeled on the collar
and the price-tag hangs how many dollars
the colors faded yellow
the buttons on the cuffs are hidden
as the holes and the stitching
looks like she was thrown in a laundry basket
she asked if she could remove port wine stains
sweat and hair and dirt ingrained?

have to talk about
girls behind their back.
They mock me and pretend
face to face

they are my friend. They could
talk about the weather, if it'll rain
this afternoon. That it's cold for
this month of June. They could talk

world affairs, the war in
the Ukraine. But they'd have to
have a bigger brain. They could talk
about a fundraiser for

the sick. Or even the movies that
they've seen on Netflix. They could talk
about style and design, the newest line
of clothes. The cons and pros of wearing

pantyhose. They could talk about their kids
or their pets/their vacations in the Carribean, wine
and e-cigarettes! They could talk shop. But they
talk about me till their jaws drop!

me a river that flowed to the sea
could cry in my cup for eternity
cry until the sun burns the earth
till every baby’s birth has seen
them grow old as the mountains
painfully stinging cold as the snow
and you’d sit and shake your head
as if you can’t grasp a thing I said

I could cry
me a thick ink sky
shooting a billowing black cloud
as the octopus
punching my fists in the air
my tears so jagged
they cut down the trees
and you’d take umbrage at my pain
as if I turned your glitter into lead
poking holes in your made-up bed

I could cry
out splinters
cutting my eyes
til the bloods spill
into all your lies
and you’d lay drenched
in a pool of red
standing as a blade of grass
till I passed over you like a mower
as if this could make the pain
move slower

split and falling off
the string. Scattering all
around the floor, rolling
out the door. Clouded pebbles

filled with rain hide in nooks
from the broken chain. Dust bunnies
ate a couple. She took the strand,
empty, not supple to the man

behind the glass. But it wasn't light
despite all vacant tenants. And no
pennants for the years of work
to add to the string making worth

the gifts of a milky mother
clung as young to the hanging
teats of the udder.

gold
when it was
glitter dust
I was sold on the love
when it was only
heavy lust

I saw
a hero
riding a steed
but it was a coward
not taking the lead

I saw
castles
but they were made
out of sand

I saw
a friend
lending a hand
but as I was broken
off he ran

that came out today was
the sun. And the only one I heard
was the song of the birds. The only
thing I could see standing tall

were the trees. The only thing
I could touch that was soft
was the grass on the ground. So, I
planted myself down. The only thing

that was high was the clouds up
in the sky. The only thing that moved
me was the wind. And I said to myself
what a way to begin

another day.

somewhere in the middle. Riddled
with flaws, and translucent
as gauze. Two painted walls
flaking. Two unattended hearts

breaking. I leaned on him. He on
me. Both of us dead batteries. Wires cut
and sparks flying.  Fires begin with two
bodies lying. I lived to tell, all the while
he burned in hell.

Read: "Love Outside The Boundaries" by Sandra L. Wyllie

on hot day
a rainbow flower
made of crimson clay
sassafras and moonbeams
whispers and silk screens
a riptide pulling you out
over your head
raising you up
as a loaf of bead
a blade of grass
you rub in your hands
a crack of thunder
that lands at your feet
a port wine stain
with a rhythmic beat
changing as a leaf
in autumn
marmalade or Marmaduke?
she has me confused

I’d like to strangle! If only I bought
a wide-tooth comb to pull out
the knots that made a home
in my hair, then I’d shed him
as fleas in a quick sneeze.

He is the Trash
I should have put out last night. But I
was red-eyed and tired. Everything
expired and smelled like rotten eggs, moldy
cheese and sour grapes.

He is a Molotov cocktail
I shouldn’t have mixed. But then
I was fixed on him. He blew up in
my face. And I splattered like cake batter
with the beater on high. Stuck to the ceiling
and dried. None can scrape me off -
with only a wet cloth.

you can
hide
or
raise
your voice
tickle
the hair
in their ear
a wallflower
never
gets watered

the big bad wolf
and blow and blow
until I knock some houses down
and expose the pigs inside
hiding in their clothes
and Clementine’s

I’ll Be

the voices inside my father’s
head
the one on the left      the one on the right
that way I’ll always be with him

I’ll Be

the ghost writer
for some famous author
who stole all they know from a drunken woman
who had no soul

I’ll Be

ruminating over a pizza tonight
I’d ask you to join me
but I wouldn’t want to disturb your Pollyanna smile
while I’m deliberating over committing suicide

what’s the point? I’m going
out

and walking off
all this hurt, less I

blurt something
worth saying if someone

could only pay attention,
ahem…

oh, never mind
no

gawd! Here we go

on a rainy day
when clouds are grey
and weeping willows
fall as feathers
from downy pillows

Take me
as is
without the make-up
and wigs
when I’m bald
as a joey
not adorned or showy

Take me
with my scars
don't try to fix'em
leave 'em as they are
hold them close
but do not smother
reverend them as
you would
your mother

Take me
over the horizon
as the red sky meets
the midnight sea
don’t look back
just cut the tethers
and we’ll fly like birds together

an inked spot
surreptitiously hung
a birthmark
copiously sprung
black smoke
filling up my lungs

I'm every song unsung
He's cut off the top
of my tongue
I grow back as stubble
till he doubles his precision
not as I envisioned
stepping on me
climbing the rungs

hair
in rollers
for curls
that bounce

I set my
table
for food
in large amounts

I set my
clock
for eastern
standard time

I set my
oven
for three hundred
and fifty degrees

I set my
mind
to do
what I please

out of life
as I did with my hair as
a ten-year old child
that didn’t care. It was a cinch and

did the job fast. I’d throw
the mass in the trash. It looked like
a nest that the Robin hatched

her chicks in. Women are
snarly. And so are men. And I,
too. It’s hard to brush through
the clumps of life. My head is

an ocean. My hair, the crashing
waves. And the men are all lice. I’d
like a clean shave!

from the cloudy skies.
Dewdrops on a morning blade.
Running rivers from blue eyes.

Lolling in the Everglades.
Streaming in my clawfoot tub.
Sudsy as I sprawl and scrub.

The kettle says it hot.
Steaming in the ***.
Swirling down the drain.

A puddle in the rain.
Pour it in the coffee grounds.
But it makes some men drown.

It’s a part of me.
A drink for the flowers.
This garden’s raised on showers.

The birds wet their feathers.
Cleans the stain off my leather.
Pitter-patter on the windowpane.

How it grows the honey grain.
We need it to survive.
It keeps us all alive.

because
we lived it
we didn’t talk it

using useless
romantic expressions
that give the impression
that someone cares

bogus stares -
into each other’s eyes

coming home
with flowers
to say sorry

that whitewashing -
save for the laundry

He loved me
until he didn't.
I was diverting
until I wasn't.

This was a novelty
until it wore off.
He built me up
until he tore me down.
He was at home
until he wasn't around.

I was his shadow
until I wasn't me any longer.
I was in pain
until I grew stronger.

the moon
may I rise.
Are you done for the night?
Did you quell all their cries?

The moon doesn’t ask
the sun
are you done for the day?
Did you warm their cold faces?
Did you cover the grey?

The cloud doesn’t ask
the sky
can I cover your blue.
with my puffy, shaped white
poured on thick just like glue.

The sky doesn’t ask
the cloud
shall we part.
I’m waiting for a star
to give me his heart.

Then neither shall I ask
for what I must do.
And in return –
Neither will you.