A Sip of Baileys in My Skull

“No one is actually dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away…” ~ Terry Pratchett   

Wails are absent,
today. There’s Bachata music,
and stubborn tears
gloss my grin—
because I always grin

on February’s end,
when your voice spices
my memory,
when coconut milk simmers
with brown rice and pigeon peas,
under a bed of fresh plantain leaves
(because the original taste matters…
when crafting memory
back to life)
.

Wails are absent,
my heart.
But the cauldron is cooking
your favorite meal. And music,
oh yes…
there is music in my kitchen
and a sip of Baileys in my skull.

.
the wee notes…
– Today is the 3rd anniversary of my little brother’s death. I celebrate his life by cooking something he liked, listening to music he loved, remembering him as he was—flawed, generous, hilarious… a fantastic dancer with the superpower of smiles.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Tuesday Platform, and to Prompt Nights ~ It’s in an old kitchen that the best food is made.

Minding Naught and Seeing Zilch

“That is the eternal folly of man. To be chasing after the sweet flesh, without realizing that it is simply a pretty cover for the bones.” ~ Neil Gaiman

Fear no skull,
child, bleached bones don’t lie.
Grinning flesh
with hard eyes?
Yes, mind the real reaper—
wails ooze through his teeth.

The child laughed,
following the flesh
and the grin,
minding naught
and seeing zilch, missing all
hints of the past kills.

.
the wee notes…
– Bastet, over at MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie, is reading two of my favorite books (American Gods and Anansi Boys, by Neil Gaiman). Since these novels are part of a series where my beloved Gaiman weaves fantastically dark urban legends around the myths of old and new gods, Bastet invites us to conjure our own tall tale or poem. I found inspiration in the quote at the beginning of this post and a pair of prescription glasses I saw sprouting out of a naked tree.
– This is my first dance with Shadorma, a poetic form consisting of a 6-line stanza presented as such: (3/5/3/3/7/5). The form is alleged to have originated in Spain. The form is short and asks for no rhyme. So… you’ll probably see more of them around here. Also, they can be linked together to create a shadorma series.
–  Linked to Poets United ~ Poetry Pantry, 342.

yep, it seems someone went home in a blur

Unchilled

“Childhood’s a collection of lies.”

“Really?” I laughed into the phone, and my back spasmed. “Where’s the evidence?”

“In memories suggesting I used to wish for snowstorms”, she said.

“I have a copy of your ‘Come Snowstorm Come’ spell, glued to the front page of my ‘Warrioresses Survive Together’ journal, which corroborates your recollection.”

“I forgot about that.” She laughed and then cussed.

“Pain’s getting worse?”

“Nah, just the cold carving sour nothings inside my bones.”

“Let’s take the chisel and eye-gouge the bastard.”

“Together”, she said.

“Always”, I said, and the warmth of our combined laughter unchilled the world.
.

for Robin

.
the wee notes…

– Linked to Friday Fictioneers. Visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog, to join the creative fun. Follow this LINK, to read what others have brewed out of the photo prompt.
– Also link to Prompt Nights ~ Come chase oh fleeting thoughts of the moment. Sanaa invited us to celebrate World Thinking Day (Feb 22nd), by catching up with a friend, and writing a poem (or fiction piece) based on the conversation with them.

photo by Sarah Potter