the fire in my chest
you kindled, love
years ago
dimmed when you
failed to feed it
anything but dreams
& lies
which sparked up
& burned too fast
like pine
snapping
it needed substance
to keep burning
& there was none
there is nothing here
for you now
but ashes
***warning–do not read this if you are (a) having a wonderful day, (b) squeamish at all, or (c) the person who knows I did this for you two years ago this month.
wrists take too long
to bleed out
he said to me once
& guns, forget them
one misfire
& you live forever
diapered and drooling
minus the will to swallow
your own spit
we all laughed
at such dark humor,
not knowing
he researched
& calculated odds
before he opened
his carotid
in a bathtub
because he was
considerate
he only filled the tub
halfway
with hot water
so blood
would not overflow
to stain the grout
of the white tile floor
when there is so much of it
hemoglobin stinks
like rusted iron
I know
because I scrubbed
what was left
after they took his body
& I did not want his lover,
my friend
to see the room
the way they left it
funny
I never thought about
whose job it is
to wash away blood
after evidence is collected
and the body leaves
in a neat plastic bag
if I wasn’t there
it would have been hers
tonight the moon
is the full red moon
of august
the green corn moon
the grain moon
& the blue moon
so many colors
describing
that blank white face
caught in water
behind my reflection
stirred with a stick
rippled by breath
& the shift
of snapping turtles
deep into mud
tonight, the valley
is mine. mine
& the many-named moon’s.
we know where the foxes
hide their pups,
where the owl nests, where
the deer trails lead the coyotes
all night, running in packs
tonight, I will hear
hunting calls of that owl
& the coyotes
weave music
that pings adrenalin tones
in scales up my spine,
strung in beads between stars
dreamcatching night
when we were children
my sister & I played
spelling games
on our backs,
fingertip alphabets
pressing questions into skin
then, we had winners
& losers
now, you & I
play a different game;
my touch scribes,
strokes the figures of seduction
on your skin
& my question
has only one answer
always,
breathed in your yes
the words you bring me are sweet
shapes fanned, folded and pleated
into origami hearts
I unfold these paper hearts
and smooth them to what is sweet
at the center, love pleated
should love be pressed and pleated
twisted into still, formed hearts
or should it fly free and sweet
your sweet singing pleated hearts freed
***for dverse
a cathedral built
of live stone
climbs skyward
this is how I pray
in breath
consciously and always
spires stretching to joy
stained-glassed sun
stamping color
in light reliefs
on the floor
on my hands
across knees
this voice in choired
Gregorian chants
also climbs
also stretches
toward love
in active language
shapes this space
with faith, not dreaming
but awake
i heard hymns
sung in thunder
today
the deep bass drum
of the sky
torn open
to bleed rain
Susan Daniels Poetry 