Is anybody out there? A lonely holiday poemelette

If a poem loses its home, can it still be happy as a poemelette?

Reader Alert as always.



and the party is a blur
seen from brightened corners
candles swarm
i hide out with a cousin or two
and flesh out all my secrets
smiling into egg nog cocktails
and ignoring the darkness

at 2am, we're out
i'm off the clock for today
i dream i'm on some sort of game show
but i wake up before i understand what's at stake
and it's christmas morning
my spirit is heavy with dread
i ignore flares from the outside world
trying to cocoon myself in the silk bed

we drink coffee and try to smile at each other over the island
my mom brings out unwrapped presents for us
i try to ignore my nagging guilt that i haven't brought anything with me
we eat coffee and sweet rolls and cookies
there's egg nog in my coffee
but it all sits in my swollen stomach like air

after the gifts,
it's time to load up the car
and head to the hospital
my brother and his wife are bickering in the front seat
my sister is cracking jokes
i am silent

we arrive, and i'm so tired of averting my eyes
from drains and cuts and blood and pus
i'm a spoiled who on christmas day
and i'm exhausted from the journey
so i bury myself in people magazine
and start to think that i'm really nowhere near as pretty
as i sometimes think
when i go to the bathroom, i'm grateful for the smeared pink on my lips
after a few hours penance,
we shuffle out the door
passing santa on the way
but my smile can't be mustered

on the way home
my mind flashes in different shades of blue
and i think less about a hot cock like a slip and slide
between my hands, mouth, breasts and thighs
and more about a strong arm on my shoulders
and the sweet smell of my lover's hair
and i'm sad

Turn page...

... Close book

poet poemelette

note: all poemelettes deserve reader alerts.



some days, it is dangerous to be a poet
you forget the way that the cool earth feels as it squishes between your toes and
you find that even your laughter has a little cruelty in it
jaywalking at conversational intersections
you are overtly, dismissively, jovially casual
about lost loves
like broken necklaces shimmering in put-away dusty boxes
you drink too much
and find yourself entrancing someone
meandering
like curling smoke off of a cigarette
with all of these thoughts you scribbled on barroom napkins
that interrupted you masturbating
stunned you from sleep
free radical ideas
poems without homes

he doesn't know
he's just an audience
he doesn't know
that you're talking to yourself
and to those lost loves that were not even loves at all
only narcissistic reflections
you held tight like a pillow's embrace

and you are cavalier
using your flesh like a venus fly trap
hitchhiking with no gas money
at the end of the day,
you find yourself
smiling with orgasmic relief
next to a dumbfounded stranger
is that a smile?
you wonder,
dumbfounded, or dumb?
you feel the cracked white edges of your heart
calloused
and you worry about the day
you fall in the well
but you hope
that only happens
to other poets

Turn page...

... Close book

moon poemelette

Reader Alert for Adult Language




i stepped into the cool
spotlit in the dark
my blue bubble barely covering me
the moon slung back
showing a little leg
drawing lascivious stares
asking for it
winking like that

and the air took me
winding through cobblestone and
potholed streets
anxious tree branches
like the river's mucky brush
making me swerve
making me duck

and then i saw her
gaping, naked
full
exposed to us all
a fake moon
dancing over lower bourbon
not afraid to push out that apple bottom
enthusiastically showing her tits

a congregation of men
smoking cigarettes
pulling deep and gesturing
they have wrenches and cables
headsets crackle
their fingers crookedly point
at her

she is the moon turned up to eleven
with too much mascara and blue eyeshadow
she is the moon's evil twin sister
or her poor, misguided cousin
coming so close to pose for men
that she doesn't understand

Turn page...

... Close book

poemelette 1

the first in a series of wee poems

Reader Alert for Erotic Themes



she fingers the line
like twisting curls around her finger
licks her lips
his smile gleams bright
as he crosses the club
cutting the crowd like water

it is only a hug
for a count and a half
it's the half, you see
where his sweat touches hers
the weight of his arms
pulls her center of gravity
she wants to push in her pelvis
to put her nose
and her lips
on his neck
to let her hands draw a vee down his back
and land on his ass
to pull him in

the sparks live in the half
and flicker to fantasy
his fingers dance against her arm
a casual gesture
to an onlooker
she scorches the sensation
into her mind

for the next afternoon
stretched out like desert highway
a joint and an iced coffee
to dream of afternoon delights
she traces squiggly lines on her nipples
driven to distraction
the kid inside
always had a wild imagination

she stands behind him
and hopes he leans up against her
she wants to build enough muscle memory
to put together a picture
but she must remain
she cannot betray a sister
so she can only allow
a count and a half

(x-p)

Turn page...

... Close book