Sunday, March 10, 2013


Everyone of us is a battlefield and there is shrapnel
in our bones that rattles
when we sing, reminding us that once there were
no guns
no ammo
just soft and silk and powdered kisses on milk-white skin.
Forever ago and for days after that I thought
that the sun had fallen behind a cloud
like pennies behind the couch
and if i looked hard enough I would find little
couch-cushion treasures buried in pillows and used up
but the sun never came up and I supposed that it got lost
in rain filled clouds and maybe if i cried
and unburdened the skies
the earth would fill with sun-kissed spills
and the sun would come again.

Yesterday I went up to the moon and yelled at him
for stealing all my sunshine
and he laughed at me with twinkling eyes
and a cheshire smile
and told me to look inside my mother's closet.
I dug up the dregs of DNA files listed as classified--
they were in a wall safe behind the skeletons--
secrets--dark, deep--
written in chromosomes and protein signatures
that told me I would die in a vicodin-induced