Name of sacrifice

'It rips you to pieces' she said, the pain of birthing a part of yourself into the world
I wouldn't I said,
like dumbbells the weight and the size of other worries upon your shoulders jabs at your arms
and the chores, the open sores
the broken skin you'd have to bear upon yourself! it was all faint under her arms I could tell.
Ha! Yourself?
No time for yourself,
You donate your heart while its still inside of you
You give up your own skin, and your time, and your bones
and you can not revoke it, you cannot ignore it or deny yourself the joys
of tottering feet and sloppy kisses like landslides
I am tired, she pressed onto my hand
I am drained, she complained
I only smiled back and said that the title
Mother
 is the name of all sacrifice, friend.

Remains

In the ghost's town, under the sun 
There's still a flower budding, somewhere
in the parks, make-shift places caught between 
spontaneity and adulthood
there rests a bit of what was forgotten, a bridge and some 
Monkey bars, candy jars
slides and sand grains
and somewhere a childhood that remains.

Few oxygen filled lungs

We can never master details,
the way poets do
the way old, mad story tellers do
collecting stones for stories
we are useless toward the fumble of a tear
we function on too little, little money, small pleasures
of showing teeth, sealing redemption with  an eyeless sun
We all move, unaffected by the small things
all unaware that our lungs are pierced, oozing out
last pieces of oxygen
last fruits from trees
where the details begun.

Rose in his arms

Here have my arms,
Here you will remain safe, away from love sewn cliches
Far, there's a space in our house, only for both of us.
Fitting perfectly our prayers, our silences
 we vowed we'd be joined for life
Joint till the core, till the very end.
You never asked me for anything, expect maybe wild roses for your bedside
you said the fragrance helps you start your day
and you always wonder if ever possible it is I stop snoring.
My snores will quiet but now tell me how can I scrape you
 a rose from under the rubble?

Fir Trees Do Not Grow here

South of the avenue,

between the intersections of cars,

shoppers with misshapen wills and 'green' paper bags

we walk

Past shops and cafes bulging with affluent sets of stilettos, cigarette butts and laughter.

We buried it- laughter, in holes our nails dug

beneath a fir tree, where we last kissed

your face pressed into the spaces of me, then vanished

and like a pimple, left a red round mark.

and now you appear again like a pimple, sore, full of pus. We move now steadily, the sun casts its rays in the nooks and the sidewalk's cracks

since fir trees do not grow in this city, I do not look upwards. The ground is my world:

coins, half shewn bubble gum and bottle caps narrate another story.

I am the suburbs of this seemingly eloquent city,

 a place so much like you in heels and the high bun.

And on one street corner I lay at risk,

 of your perfume once more,

 of your wandering mind.

 I lay at risk of everything behind your eyes.

 I pause when you notice it; a game of chess laid out.

 We sit down beside it, tea for you and nothing for me.

I fear opening my mouth, I don't want to inhale you again.

The pieces are now, like your tea frozen, the horse lost his rider

The queen mourns her king and the soldiers can barely hang low for their own good.

This is another charade we create to reiterate what once was us;

two colors, too bright and too dark

for their own good.

In blossoming ideas Fir Trees Do Not Grow Here has been published by Visual Verse.

Albums that look like us

One trails the light, with eyes to make out a shape
this is how we look into things, objects and little beings
trail the memory back with your fingernail, leave a little fingerprint
fingerprints upon gloss, smudges along looking mirrors,
they, we are all pictures slit into little plastic sheets
little albums that look like us,
A part long gone,
A part written in light- unforgotten.

Losing everything

Before you lose everything
appreciate the nothingness,
The starting point
of everything you can lose.