Family (grief trigger warning)

When I sit

at 2 in the morning

eating a family size

pack of m&ms

it almost feels forbidden:

to eat so much

it almost makes me sick,

to think so fast

my body lines blur,

to be too deep in it,

that messy glory wasteland

with her howling angels,

to stay up so late

I forget what month it is,

to remember

what family feels like,

all 5 of us,

sitting at the picnic table

in the fall

when the wind whips

around you,

listening to NPR

on the radio,

laughing together

as the leaves

fall down

mixing with the

gravel and sunshine.

How could I have known

that even though I loved the snow,

the move to cold Minnesota

was the start

of the end of family.

I cut my hair off

at 3 in the morning

with a rusty pair

of old scissors

that my nana used

to cut crisp and neat with

when I was young,

and now scraping clumps

of hair off my head

with dull pieces of metal

the summer after

my dad died

and I missed him

and my mom

yelped at the sight

when I came down

to breakfast

in the morning.

And later,
I smoked 6 cigarettes

outside in the depths of the dark

having paced round

the hospital room for so long

I was forming a trail

of sunken floor

with my heavy feet,

waiting for my twin flame

to wake up after

his first brain surgery

as the doctors

ripped out as much

of the tumor as

they could

even then knowing

that this was a road

which would end,

in tears,

and for me

my worst fears being right,

doing it all,

running round and round

so as to feel nothing,

sitting at the window,

looking out at the red bird

perched in her tree branches

outside my bedroom

at 11 in the morning

when I held Jordan’s hand

and whispered

over and over:

I love you. I love you.

Can you hear me? I love you,

until he died in my hands

with a sigh.

Untold Horros of the Cancer Choke

There was an echo

within this place

of children

dying and crying

in hospital hallways,

their sobs rang through the rooms

of my head like

a fucking thunder.

Kind calm mamas

wipe her quiet tears

and dads sing her favorite lullabies

as the poor babe

tries to fall back to sleep

with IVs pump

chemicals

all the way up to

her red curls,

which she will also lose

in a weeks time.

I saw nurses

distracting boys

with train toys

while sleep starved parents

get more bad news

and wept in restrooms

so their kids wouldn’t see.

I must confess of doing

this as well

and became friends with the

bathroom stall wall

who wept with me

which I thought was very kind indeed.

I remember Jordan crying out to me in my sleep,

then waking up

in the middle of the night

with a start

and finding a text from him

in the many months after his diagnosis

telling me he was scared

and didn’t feel brave,

so I got up at

5 in the morning

and drove like a witch possessed

to walk and drink coffee with him

in the early morning frosts,

hearing his story,

his processing of death,

thus life too,

and we got sad together,

got angry together,

wept together

at this cancer that

didn’t hear us or care,

and even more so

for needing our father

taken from us before the cancer came calling.

The untold horrors of the

cancer choke

stick in my throat.

I cant,

just cant speak it out

like a crave to,

so I breathe,

just breathe baby,

breathe,

and smile on.

Ancestor Call

Dark night hours,
I wrestle 
with the fallen angels
in dreaming times,
he fights me
to make me bleed
and I am sweaty hot,
weary from the war.
I wept for you monster,
doomed to repeat
bad habits
as if fate liked
licking your ankles
and staying after
all the other shiny guests
had left,
she crawls into bed with
you and watches you sleep.

Death seemed to
keep me as
her servant,
bound and gagged,
screaming
with sadness
so loud
I assumed I awoke
the universe
who consequently didn't seem to
have a care
and fell back down
to soft beds,
fluffy down pillows,
with warm others,
snuggling her through
the cold night
as I lay sobbing sleep
every twilight
since I can seem
to recall.

Jordan and I
were the closest of
soul blood,
bonded together brethren,
and now
he's been taken from me
and I am left here
to fight these nasty growling,
gnashing teeth to my skin,
demons,
all alone.

Keep the Calm

Give me a rhythm

miss lovely,

to sing you along

into pleasure fires that

glow and burn in

the bottom of the belly,

tease out moans

new spontaneous,

combustive,

harmonies,

bursting forth

from long ago

dusty lungs.

Get me a beat

mister,

a bass line that

thumps my spine

back and forth

just right,

and the drums

that pound my

sweet head

into space.

I was death’s

time keeper,

sitting in the eye

of the hurricane,

breathing,

deep,

and slow,

to keep the calm.

Reborn

Ice pouring out of my

ears and mouth,

the clock tower

watched and

said nothing.

And in the second

before midnight,

I coughed,

you replied with a sigh,

one of those

intakes of breath

that dies halfway

up the throat,

and then is reborn

on the tongue

to explode outward.

I wanted to kiss you,

howl into your mouth

unspoken scars

and words,

burn through

each others skin.

But the hangman

talked with his

eyes wide and awake.

What is the fucking point?

To suffer,

to crash,

mmm though in the molten mess,

blood pumped fiercely and

I sing in deep drenching tones,

to no one in particular.

My lungs heave,

passion felt

to live madly,

in complete wildness

mixed with bizarre appetites that

drown out

the beats of the reaper. 

Buried Anthem

Maybe,

just,

these broken down

dusty

words

could hold me a little longer,

for I have been up since

what they call

man’s dawn

and I am so very weary.

Doctors and,

doctors

and,

doctors,

giving us

frowns upon tears

as they walk into bleached bellied

hospital rooms

with puppies and rainbows

painted on the ceiling:

you may not get a chance

to witness tomorrow

so say your goodbyes my dear.

Cancer wasn’t only

taking its time

to sneak in and out

of the brain cells in

my brother,

slow pain,

taking him away from me,

cancer fancied 

killing me too,

as collateral damage,

though strange

no one seemed to see

my soul

drained from me

as I watched untold horror

unfold,

and then laugh at my

silent sobs in the shower.

And friends came,

two by two,

speaking tired odes of

too busy to bother,

scared of their own mortality,

I suppose,

thus rushing away

like the rain to the gutters

after a storm.

So,

my dear kind poem,

I write you out,

blessing your pain

and despair,

clutch me tight

in the everlasting night

until some sort of light

shines within me.