Dante in Dreams

Dante in Dreams (3/27/07)

False Prophets search the rubble
for seven signs of doom and salvation
but overlook the blood pouring
from her feminine hands
Because the weaker sex, the inferior race
has no place in God's Revelation
She is unworthy of her own free will
let alone able to carry the burden of stigmata
So we pray to our token deities that they will
stop fucking long enough to see
that the world has gone to hell while
we praised them for the tragedies
that we mistook for miracles
And we pray for all the desires
of our hearts and bodies
but neglect to ask for the wisdom
to know when love turns to emotional cannibalism
and now the ghosts hovering over my bed
give me a false sense of security and
drunken angels lead me astray so far
that I can no longer determine who
speaks my prayers and who hears them
But now it's too cold to feel
the fire burning beneath us and
everything we've prayed for has
damned us to this fate so
we give in and let
genius give way to insanity

Hiding

I sit here in the dark
so that if you should stop by
you won't see the light on
and know that I'm at home.

I sit here in the dark
crying tears into the night
praying that the telephone
won't break the silence,
because I know who would
be at the other end of the line

I sit here in the dark
staring into the wall,
Afraid to look you in the eyes
afraid the world will see
through my clever disguise

I sit her in the dark
making excuses not to leave,
telling myself it's too soon,
or maybe it's too late,
or that the world will see
what I've been hiding.

12:54 AM

The rain falls outside the window,
but if not for the sound of the gutters
emptying into the grass I wouldn't know it.
And I, so deep in thought, try to tear myself
from the numbing work before me
to capture a few fleeting hours of sleep
before morning rips away any hope of rest.
For morning only brings more errands to run,
places to be, work to do, plans to forget about.
And now my dreams of yesterday
about where I'd be today are now dreams
of where I might be tomorrow and
the clock tick tocks away all the
minutes and hours I've wasted.
So I sit alone, with hours of work ahead
and rain outside that I hear but do not see.

A Wig

The Summer at her house
Eating food I didn't like
yet still swallowing every bite
So she wouldn't think me rude
Hot days spent playing in her back yard
And burial by sea
for my cousin's goldfish

Several years later
She stood beside me
on that special and sacred day
complaining about how they
misspelled her name in the program

Her gift to me
an elaborate gold cross
with glistening stones
I wore for months after her death
afraid to take it off
as if I would lose the last
remaining part of her

The last time I saw her
eating at a little restaurant
her face so pale and grey and
her wig looked so awkward
She'd never had bangs before

A reason for everything

Eighteen years since I called this town home
Now I find myself here again
All for the purpose of watching
my oldest friend walk down the isle.
in the same church where we attended preschool together
The tulips no longer grow there
and the playground is nothing but a loney slide

A few blocks away sits the house that sheres my earliest memories
much smaller than I remembered it
The trees so overgrown that night fell early on the back yard
The brick street was missing the majesty it once held
that told us that nothing could go wrong
Its lies show through the broken path

The hope that yesterday held
was buried under the dilapitated houses
each bearing the mark of foreclosures and condemnations
It saeems impossible that this was my childhood haven
where we walked unsupervised two blocks
just to trade our allowances for candy necklaces and baseball cards.
Where our biggest threats were
summertime bumble bees and too much sugar
Where my biggest worry was what new toy to ask for
and how late I could stay up at night

Long before broken homes and crime rates
Stolen children and lost dreams
Absent fathers and sick mothers
When my big sister knew everything
and my mother could still climb the stairs
Before we had to move and leave this place
that now seemed to have abandoned itself

Now I see this place that gave me my first crush,
my first best friend,
my first taste of the unfairness of life
This place that taught me that life is constantly changing
And yet, I see nothing of myself here
So, I silently thank fate for the horrid interventions
that took me away from this place

Mistake

Hearts in armor in a summer storm
When lust came at the price of love
And Brown-eyed girls lied down their promises
for brown-eyed boys
and leave innocence behind on the floor with their clothes

When inhibitions give way to impulse
and lines get crossed
though they know they can never go back,
they also know they can never stop

So she convinces herself that he loves her
And he's sure she'll never leave
So they smile, and kiss, and hold each other
until the pillow talk becomes too much to handle
and he climbs out of bed
and sleeps on the couch