I miss you, Chesapeake.
And the way we used to speak
Side by side in salt crusted wicker rocking-chairs.
You were never one to talk too much or listen too little.
And you were always willing to just . . . be.
I could cry in front of you, dear friend,
And not feel shamed by my bloodshot eyes.
Or I could sink to my knees in your confessional
And you would bury my secrets in the chamber of a nautilus.
I remember how I could throw out dreams in glass bottles
Little girl walking down the street,
Pretty princess dressed in pink.
On your way in search of something sweet.
Large toothy grins for the neighbors you know.
But up to strange new doors you boldly go
For behind them is what you seek.
With fleshy paws reaching, the men you meet,
Dole out sugary little nothings that melt on your tongue,
And roll of theirs,
As they pinch your cheeks.
It was just a job.
Three years watching her through that machine.
And maybe a little part of me fell in love with her.
I recorded the words she spoke.
Even the ones that I knew she was speaking to me.
In the hours that she slept every night
I stood guard; thankful for the dreams that made her sigh
And angered at the monsters who threatened her.
Friends visited her and I ached to be one of them.
She went on dates with men who didn’t deserve her.
Cradled by pillow-top I sink
into the realm just this side of slumber.
In those last indistinguishable moments I recognize
the weight of his arm at my waist,
our hands clasped to my breast.
And the way his thigh rests between mine
I know that I am home.
I measure his breaths; by the brush
of his chest against my back;
until I know he is just as close to succumbing as I.
My unresisting mind goes under to the whisper-soft
exhalations in my ear.
And in my dreams my lover and I meet.
Crystal by crystal they fall,
Feelings in six-sided flakes.
Small, light powder floats down;
Joy, comfort, contentedness,
Settle at my feet.
As the clouds shift bringing darker horizons
Grief clings to guilt,
Anger melds to hurt,
And heavy, wet pieces build drifts against my spine.
Day to day the frozen precipitation falls,
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