|
||||||
|
|
many kinds of bars on windows types of locks on gates holding us in with no skin to protect the soul
All rights reserved. ©2009 by Sara Fryd
Pieces of me are falling away Little bits, I disavowed one day when I denied I had feelings, When I had no time to hurt or cry. Pieces not dealt with or honored, As if I had lifetimes to recapture this memory or that little [...] Maya says, “Get God on the whisper.” Women with clout Women with money More important than I surely, A middle aged forgotten white woman Who paid for a few degrees Raised children alone Worked daily without getting a life or spouse Then spent her retirement money On them… Them who have forgotten her The one who [...] He sings… In the middle of the morning For no apparent reason I can fathom He must be happy So it would seem To those of us who hide in cubicles Completing joyless tasks Bitching and moaning About nothing or less. What wonder…
We had a tea party, you and I Yesterday, when March was cold. We were three or four again Five or six or seven.
Changed the world [...] She said she had a cat named Purple… I mentioned cats didn’t come in purple. She replied, “You’ve never seen him sleeping on the roof at sunset!” How does one argue with five year old logic, Eyes that see magic at every turn? “Little Judy,” a creative, forty year old mind inhabiting a little girl’s [...] White blond hair parted on the side Belied the six year old mind Living in a fifty-nine year old body. Ocean eyes glared with anger through the rear window of a Dodge as his house faded into memory.
Though I’ve worn my heart Upon my sleeve (and around my knees) More times than I care to remember Or talk about in mixed company. There is that special place I keep for you Like the bag that’s packed With brandy colored lipstick, ginger cologne A little black dress, and cream lingerie That ignites [...]
Forty three feelings of the day arrive Or fifty-two In this place in my middle below my left ventricle behind, a little to the right, above my navel pressed up against my spine. A place where I know just know… That self pity destroys the perpetrator Complaining falls on deaf ears, and [...] |
|||||
|
Copyright © 2012 Sara Arizona - All Rights Reserved 21 queries. 0.510 seconds. |
||||||
