Gossiping with Frog-Cups

I wanted to feel you
inside out, while I peeled my skin
off your thorned bones.

I wanted to speak
your many names into the wind;
chant to all, “He’s mine!” Unwanted,
and as disposable as the twists
binding a reanimated heart to life, but mine.

Uncanny… wants
younger than the cruellest month
taste of ancient on my tongue,
when all I want is for birdsong
to bedeck the wind
(from moon till sun),
while I gossip with frog-cups.

for NaPoWriMo with Magaly Guerrero 2015, Day 29 – This Poem Has a Mission: In three stanzas, detail what (if anything) you wish to accomplish with the poems you wrote this month, or with poetry writing in general.

linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (Frog-Cups in New York City)

Frog-CupsFrog-Cups (growing near my house)

Tutu Thoughts

On a Sunday full of bells,
while I still
suffered prescribed white dresses
plus the horror
of beige bloomers,

I tied my skirts between my legs
and jumped on a boy’s sweaty back,
to wrap both arms around his neck

until my vise made the demon squeal.
He never tried to steal ice cream money again;
at least, not from my red purse.

As my thirty-eighth Sprouting Grass Moon blooms,

choking my wants out of a strangled life lacks
any kind of real appeal. I think
undue violence… bores me.

My arms remain a ready vise
and my hips balance blade and hammer,
but squealing demons is a waste.

On a Sunday of distant bells,
while I am
sun-clad and life-filled,
I grin at fading thieving demons
(sip coffee) and cackle at tutu thoughts.

Process Note: this might be the most unexpected poem I’ve written for the cruellest month. I was convinced that I wanted to grab the things that bring difficulty to my life and shake them until they squealed. And I tried writing just that… I tried hard… Then I started laughing, because I realized that metaphorically kicking the living lights out of my afflictions gave me no pleasure. On the other hand, cackling while I mentally watched them squirm as their hold over me melted away, well… that made me grin like a half-crazed lunatic. I liked it. I liked it a lot *cackles witchy style*.

for NaPoWriMo with Magaly Guerrero 2015, Day 26 – Speak to Your Affliction: Metaphorically sit in front of the thing (or person) that ails you, and let your poem tell it (him or her) exactly what’s in your mind.

linked to
Poets United, Poetry Pantry 249

Tuzki in a Pink TutuTuzki