little voice

Someday
the silence will engulf me
and I will beg them
to slice
me open
risk
facial paralysis

for the chance
to hear again;

the warm moan
against my cheek
as you come

dirty words

and the sting
of slapping flesh

my own
little voice
crying.

yule

When in the winter
she retreats
Yule
her solace

and it is coming
so soon on the morrow
rebirth
goodness

another year
without brother
without sister
without…

the years
of burden.

She turns
a slow pivot
toward
the dew lit
morrows

toward new souls
to which she draws

blessed.

and the hours

And I was so happy

hopeful,
watching the world
with wonder
so young
so eager

but always

your anger

so quick

I learned
to lean
forehead against the window
to look out
the world more gray

and dream

the bright inside.

too fast
I resigned

and the hours
turned to years.

tomorrow

Today
she was asked
if she had seen T.C.
today.

Yesterdays
of hope
and sorrow
filled her thoughts
of yesterdays

reminiscent of
todays.

Tomorrow
maybe she'll stop
the cycle
tomorrow

and be loved
be a keeper
tomorrow.

too many times

What do you think
when you touch her hair
or kiss her flesh
and call her baby

while she sings
the blues?

What do you think

when she worries
that to touch a heart
not yours
is to tease

or to spread
her heart too thin
she will fade
from all

and turtle-up
as she does?

What do you think
when she's doin'
what she needs to do
not to think of you?