Cover Me

Find the quilt, the brown and orange and plum colored
blanket of ancient
musty scent of laughter
the late nights of tv and the sound of mother.

Find the plaid shirts, the chenille
the green hoodie, the purple socks
find the bright highlighter yellow hat
bury me inside.

Find me in the bottom of a slide
the hot metal ones they banned
so kids don’t burn their flesh
find me sliding down on my knees to entertain
bald knees and enjoy the pain
of knowing when a mistake has been made.

Find me a rope tied to your wrist
one I can grab onto
find me a sprained ankle bone as I skip over railroad ties in the road
only to catch my heel on the curb.

Find me in your words, your crystallized gems
your piles of shit-soaked linen lines
your Starbucks dirges where you wish you had not drank the milk

for fear of irritating the membranes of your flesh paragraphs.

Find me a suit of grey silk, wrap me in one of those purple scarves
I can’t seem to find a need for
bury me in my Zara coat, the black one with bells of elegance

find me a snowdrift in the midst of this heat
this gorgeous weather any autumn would be jealous
any winter storm would follow in any other time zone
find me in the weather.

Find me the means to keep my flesh hidden
my pink and raw
my nipples flaccid and belly flopping
my wrinkles spilling into my nubile longing

my arms seeping with aching and knowing
my insides churning in my stomach.
Find the means to keep together

find me the keep
find me the cover.

Show Don’t Speak

my laughter shows you
the me buried under the storm
of my becoming

my sleepiness on your couch
sings the song of my comfort
with you

my hands in my lap
touch my neck when I think of
touching you

my respect looks like
the drive home I take
each night.

Skip Right Through The Puddles

Come and sit, sweet child,
Your cheeks are rubbed raw,
your eyes are slits of sad.
Come feel the fingers of fair
as they drag across your scalp.

You can’t trip and fall into blame
anymore
When you skip right through the puddles you’re finding
You own the puddles
splashing your skinned knees
washing the dirty deceit from your wounds.

You are not used to me being here, I know
but I will never leave again.