Friday, May 20, 2011

Snow globe

I want to keep you in a glass-globe prison
and wrap up our memories in foil
and stick them in an oven.
I want them to cook and bake and boil
inside the tin sheets till the juices and the oils
like rum in a plum cake
and all that's left is over-baked
memories dry
and desolate.

But you. You I want in a snow globe.
I want to shake up your world
every time I miss you
and smile whenever the fake snowflakes
kiss you
I want...I want to be in there with you,
frozen forever in porcelain perfection
hanging on by my fingertips
and I want...
I want to be the fake snowflakes on your lips.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011


If you'd asked me, even yesterday, I would've told you.
I would've splashed ice-cold water over my eyelids
to camouflage the tears
and chugged a mug of scalding hot chocolate
to force down my fear--
to burn away the chill,
the ice-cube in my throat,
and I would've spilled.

Yesterday, I was so bloated with emotion,
so stuffed with nostalgia that I began
to float.
I drifted to the glass ceiling of the master
bedroom, reeling
from the intensity of the feeling that
had briefly seized my throat.

I was choking on the words that had lodged
like hot fudge in my gullet.
But still. If you had asked me yesterday,
I would've spilled.

I wanted you to know--yesterday--
Yesterday, I knew exactly what I would say...
if you had asked.
If there had been a ring involved,
if there had been song,
if there had been nothing but the words
and the sentiment of the thought...
I still
would've spilled.

But of course you didn't ask.
You waited. Hesitated.
I debated, mind you,
I weighed it...
and I decided, finally,
that when you ask me
if we'll ever be
what we were once before,
I'll just say,
"We might've been--yesterday."