Nouvelle Annee

I have made you my anchor.
I will never stray, nor sail away.

Ornamented Memory

(photograph by Sally Mann)

The brown bear, her first Christmas gift
was defenseless,
when with beet colored breath
Jane gnawed and shredded his skin.

Her cotton teeth closed over each grainy strand of stuffing
while her lips cracked over the texture of tears.

The December winds kicked noisely outside.
A small bag of rocks sat firm and small inside of her throat.

Lodged, locked, lonesome.

First of December

The wind whipped Jane's long hair
till it struck her cheekbones in fury

a thick thud that
drew blood.

Simply

Standing in the driveway's loud array of leaves

Jane kissed each callouse
Bashful and pleased.

Eleven

The first time Jane fell in love,
She was eleven years old.

It had been a grey Thanksgiving
and he was a boyfriend meeting sister's parents.

Side by side,
he picked at purpled cranberries
while she scratched distractedly at the slippered bruises on her knees.

"Shyness is nice" he offerred confidentially.
"Like a snowflake" she murmered back.

Wednesday's Ramble

(via Style Rookie)

I wonder if you see my eyes eating you up,
peeking over the edge of my green book to get a glimpse.

You are smiling bemusedly, I think you know I'm in love.

You call me 'cutie pie'
and I feel like a child,
but not in the good way.

In the way that begs you to see me the way I want to be seen,
not in the way that I am.

Presentation Day

You smiled at me
in your coat and tie
I dropped my coffee.