Tuesday, September 27, 2005

on hand & foot

i have a scar on the outside of my right wrist
that finds it's twin on the inside of my right ankle.
one i received reaching into the oven
to retrieve cookies that I sent to a soldier in iraq,
the other,
walking the streets of vegas in relentless leather sandals.

of baking and walking in las vegas,
memory left traces of beauty and pain
simple in their passing,
no monuments of divine revelation
and no correlation between.

but their mark ever remains
of doing and going
no symbolism or clarity
no blame
simply reminders
that I live.

Monday, September 26, 2005


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breathe in
breathe out
the sun spills through my open window
woke up tear-washed
piles of clothing waiting
stepped into the shower
out onto my living room
towers of boxes
await my unpacking hands

breathe in
breathe out
take more penicillin
wash some dishes and take out the trash
walk outdoors and pet the cat
I unpack a box
I think of a face that isn't here
I begin to feel exposed

breathe in
breathe out
I unpack a box
turn on some music and get out of my head
I scrub the toaster and microwave
put things on a shelf in the bathroom
phone rings
but it's the customer service computer for my credit card
"your remaining credit is now less than optimistic..."
"to hear more options..."
I hang up

breathe in
breathe out
I unpack a box
kitchen floor is black from all my pacing
go out, buy something to scrub with
and some coffee
call my mother and tell her I'm doing alright
think about the bills, my dwindling savings
try not to worry
walk in
sit down
sigh and look around

breathe in
breathe out
I unpack a box
an hour has passed where a day should have
and I wish for interruptions
that don't come
but I continue onward
I breathe
and empty boxes pile up
and eventually
this will feel right
eventually this will be home

breathe in
breathe out
I unpack a box...