Little one #39 or my lost one

Little one #39 or my lost one




A lifetime of desire
I had left in her belly
That wonder that was growing there
Cell upon cell
Becoming part of her
Of me
Her womb housing
A miracle
A longed for wonder
Perfection of her and I
Her body the nurturer
And protector

And then one night
Late and dark
She screamed
As the blood flowed

And a man in a white cotton
Coat
That hung to his knees
Came to me
In the darkness of that room
Filled with people bleeding and sick
And said I am sorry

My Shadow and her

My shadow feels like it weighs five hundred pounds
as I drag it along on the ground
and the hot sun beats down on my face and makes me
feel like the hot asphalt
in the parking lot beside the beach
this stretch of beach where we use to sneak out to at
night
and make love in the sand
and sleep here with the water lapping at our feet
until the dawn came up behind us
and she use to say I was so crazy
sitting here at the beach all day
but still she came down here every day with me
and always pulled me close when the other girls in the
tiny little suits
walked by and flashed that smile my way
and she use to say she wasn’t jealous but she never
left my side
here on the warm sun drenched beach
looking out into the Gulf of Mexico
my shadow feels like it weighs four hundred pounds as
I drag it along
and think of that day
she was singing “the elephant song” that she had made
up
and could never get out of her head
well I stand here with my feet in the sand
and shaking thinking of her
pulling her top off for the first time
and running to the water, looking back at me
and her shorts coming off there where the water was
hitting her feet
and I think back to that day
when she told me about how she hates black people
and how it was her family that taught her
but she didn’t want to hate like that, but she didn’t
know
how to change
and my shadow feels like three hundred pounds, as I
drag it along the sand
and I can see the drugstore up on Gulfview Drive that
we use to go to
where she first kissed me outside the front door
and I can see the spot at the edge of the beach where
only a few small tufts of grass
separate the sand and the concrete
where she sat in my car
with her hands down my pants
that first time, and she was still in her schoolgirl
dress
that she had ran straight her to see me in after she
skipped class
my shadow feels like it weighs two hundred pounds as I
drag it along the waters edge
and I look out across the city as the light of day
starts to fall
and I turn my back on that sunset that we use to watch
together
and I look into the city where we use to roam the
streets together at four in
the morning
looking for an open store to buy another pack of
cigarettes
and sit and smoke them together in the dark front seat
of my car
sitting down by the beach
and it was always someone like her that I dreamed of
someone like her that I needed to keep me safe from
myself
my shadow feels like it weighs a hundred pounds as I
drag it over her grave

Chameleon

I was a sapling once, a small tree for those of you not using big words yet.
I grew from a seed that flew from the tree that was my mother.
I am not sure how far I landed from her, or even which one of this forest she is.
I look like most of those around me.
I grew and I grew until I was the tallest tree in the forest, I could see over the crown of all the others.
Well at least I did until those men came and cut me down, with saws and axes.
Some of those closest to me felled also.
That means we hit the ground with a crash and broke our limbs and crushed our leaves.

I was striped of all my limbs and all my leaves, and lashed, that means tied down for those not using fancy words yet, to a wagon with those who fell near me.
I was hauled across the edge of the forest and into the barren lands they call prairies.
I was not sure where I was headed and I wished for my limbs and my leaves back so I could shed this rain off my bark.

They laid me on a set of rolls and started slicing me apart, I was made into thin layers.
I felt strange not being whole anymore, but they kept my pieces together, except for my bark and the little curved pieces that they just let fall.
They stacked me in a shed, and closed the doors on me, and it was dark like the night, when the moon does not come out to play.
And it was dark long past a day I know. I am no longer sure how much time I sat in there
with my sap drying up. Then the doors flew wide once day, and the sky was bright and blue.

Alas I was weary again, I was pulled and stacked and lashed yet again to a wagon. If you are still not using those words it means they tied me down again.
The wagon rumbled away with me. I was fraught with anxiety, which means I was scared.
I wasn’t sure where they were taking me again, but I knew it couldn’t be better than the last time. The blue sky started to fade and clouds rolled over my head, and just as I began wishing for my limbs, and my leaves, and my bark, the man stopped the wagon and covered me with a tarpaulin of canvass, that’s a giant leaf you see. I thought then I might like this man better than the last.

It was several days and several nights when we finally stopped and he took the horses away. He called to another man, but one that looked like he might be a sapling to me, that means he was but a boy. Together they pulled me out of the wagon piece by piece, and laid me in neat little stacks on shelves along the wall.

When the man opened the door the next morning, he just walked around running his hands over me. He made me feel safe, better than when I was taken from the forest, and better than when I was sliced into these little pieces. He and the sapling pulled me down one at a time and took little tools and made my sides smooth.

He made little pieces and big pieces of me, but I was not afraid, he was kind and gentle and made sure to rub me and whisper to me of my beauty. He formed me, and put me back together with little holes and notches. I was a wonder to behold and he promised where I was going I would feel safe and beautiful.

Here I have stood now in this same place not moved an inch, just like the sapling I once was. I stand here as thousands walk by, and they all look up and admire me. They speak in whispers and I hear them say the man’s name often. I wish he was still here, but all I have is the saplings sapling, that his grandson for those of you keeping track.

Attie’s heartbreak

A tear was staining her cheek
As she looked on at Keith
Sitting by the door, waiting for his father
He packed his own suitcase
And sat there since noon
Well Jack was supposed to be here at one
And the tear was staining her lips
She knew from the past he would never show
It was ten past seven
And Keith hadn’t moved
She brought him dinner
There in the doorway
And he sat it on the floor
How did you tell a five year old
Daddy isn’t coming
And the tear stained her neck
She carried him to bed when he fell asleep
And the tears flowed
And covered his little suitcase
That she sat beside the bed
She sat there in the rocker all night long
And cried all night long
But it broke her heart at dawn
When Keith wouldn’t let her unpack
His little suitcase

Recall notice

Yesterday I received a recall notice in the mail
Wal-Mart said my soul could cause injury
Said that it could cause someone to choke on their
Own heart
And that they might drown in my personality
It said I should send it to their service center
Right away
And they would only charge me shipping and handling
But I knew better
And I shed these feathers from these old wings
And grew them anew
And took flight to shake the dust from my soul
And flipped a finger at the great American misery
In the blue and grey buildings
And I hid until the class action lawsuit was over
And Wal-Mart had recovered all of the individuality
In the world
And store it in the slightly over budget commercials

Scars and skin

Scars and skin




as we lay there in her momma's bed
her fingers traced that scar between my ribs
and asked again how did it happen
so I told her again
about the knife and the coward
and then she asked the strangest thing
how did it feel when the blade entered my skin
my thoughts lingered and wandered
trying to evaluate and quantify the pain
or did it really deserve to be called pain
so I said I wasn't sure
so her fingers moved to my face
and traced that torn skin on my right cheek
and asked again about how it happened
and again I told her of the beer bottle and the asshole
and she asked that strangest of things again
how did it feel when the glass sliced your cheek
and all I could think to say was
how did your first period feel

Tina Marie

sometimes, late at night when I am all alone and the sounds of the city are around me, I lie there and long for the return of that night, on your bed
and it makes me lonely to think
that was such a wonderful moment
that we both still remember it so well
but sometimes I just long to find out what your skin smells like
after that hot shower you have just climbed out of
sometimes in the dark I remember your breasts pressed against me
soft and warm
and I remember those moments but not the movie that played
and sometimes when it seems that I might have missed something
that green dress comes to mind
and reminds me of your beauty
your skin soft and pale against that cloth
your red hair falling in curls
but still I end up at that night
alone together


© Rik Woods 2008

Little lost girl in the foundry

She lost her soul
In the pasteurized humanity
Scrunched down on a bed of dirt
With rotting leaves and coal dust for a pillow
She was born under the starry night
To a mother with a silver spoon in her mouth
That she used
For the heroine in her arms
She lost her mind
In the sanitized humanity
Punched in the face
When she tried to run from the squatters
Looking for an easy night
Of rape
She lost her body
To the glamorized depravity
That we let lurk and linger in our streets
As long as it doesn’t come down
Our nice suburban sidewalk
And we can watch the latest
Based on a real story
Down at the superplex 50 screen theater
With extra butter and a large soda please

© Rik Woods 2008