He Smokes Her Home

featured in the poetry forum March 24, 2018  :: 0 comments

He likes the sound, the scrape
Wooden match scratching worn leather boot
The dent in his thumb and pointer finger
That groove left long after
Her last point
Taken

He always lights his cigarette, crooked pinky lifted
With an air, a curve of class married
With his country
She was the classy one
And he draws in deep smoky curls, rolling greys and white
Tugging that old familiar sting, the burn upon his lonely lips
Dragging, long and low, needing to be filled
But smoke doesn’t stay, it doesn’t take up holes
It disappears, gone

His lips only touch Marlboro’s now
Styrofoam coffee cups, a plastic fork now and then
He’s slowly fading, evaporating
Exhaling her wedding veil, filmy and light
The soft flow of her dress, pearl beads puffs down her back
Walking that long aisle to take his side
Ribbons of smoke, gossamer, tying back her auburn hair
He can almost see her eyes
Watching ashes fall
Landing gently, snowflakes out the window on their wedding night
Dropping to the carpet, just like his wife, long ago

editors note: Adds sad depth to "smoke'em if you got'em." (This poem is included in Heather's recently released collection, Altar Call of Trumpets, published by Red Dashboard. Congratulations, Heather! Read more about it and get your copy here.) - mh clay

Bruised Skins

featured in the poetry forum May 1, 2017  :: 0 comments

Sometimes apples do fall far
Bruised skins
Splitting with that smack
Ground a hard place to fall

Open hands aren’t always welcome, wanted
You said you were strong stock
Deep roots
The salt of the earth

Too much is deadly
And you, an expert at slicing things thin
Not one to waste
You can always chop off bruising

editors note: Pie baking? Concession making (only a pinch of salt). - mh clay

Morning Wrapped Herself in Negligee

featured in the poetry forum February 19, 2017  :: 0 comments

Morning wrapped herself in negligee
Hazy silk and stars
Embroidered flowers stitched
On satin strings

As evening’s final breath lingers
Kissing moonlight tendrils morning dew
His haloed cloud and misty veil
Curtaining his demise

Heat always rises
Equally curling toes or hair

editors note: Cohabit the curl; the having which comes from heat. - mh clay

Detained Trees

featured in the poetry forum December 20, 2016  :: 0 comments

I think of forests
massively filled
air swaddled
with pine and snow
needles crisp, sharp
to bind

But here, a squeezed corner
of penned trees
Douglas, Noble Fir
captive, owned until
the agreed passing of coins
this chain-link Christmas

Piled high
no more room at the inn
yet blooming prolifically
behind this fake snow
and out of reach from the flock
a bird of paradise blooms
Son of God

Nobility comes

at a murderous price

editors note: Which is noble? Tree for a season? Or, Bird, to bloom always? - mh clay

Calla Lilly

featured in the poetry forum January 11, 2016  :: 0 comments

Creamy curl of white slides
spooning into daylight’s wake
softened light

Cello strings serenade
this swirly sea
waking ocean’s froth and foam

Her ear curves to hear
sweet morning’s song
dance and sway

Ankles curved
embraced with satin ribbons
mossy green and bright

editors note: Sultry siren, burgeoning blossom; description so sweet, have to eat it with a spoon. - mh clay

Sweat and Saliva

featured in the poetry forum March 30, 2015  :: 0 comments

He’s a hot mess of a man
All sweat and saliva
Belching on his pot roast and beer
Blind to the parsley, the napkin ironed

He groans when asked to wash
Refuses to use that damned floss
So high falootin’
His trusty ole peppermint pick lodged
Deep within his swollen gums

He grabs for her tits
Claws at her derriere
Angry that all he scores is a manicured swat
The tinkle of silver charms
She was the queen of West Texas

Now a mean ole mother
He mutters under his stale breath
Cracking another can
Not noticing her freshly curled hair
Or the Home Beautiful magazine, $1.99
Dog-eared by her side sagging
Not looking anything like a home coming
Or anyone’s high school dream

editors note: The shame of mutual disappointment; keep those bodily fluids to yourself. - mh

Smoking Sky

featured in the poetry forum December 6, 2014  :: 0 comments

The sky had been smoking
xxxThick cigar puffs
xxxClouded smoke charcoal grey
xxxThe sky was dirty
xxxAnd angels came, coughing
xxxNot in clouds but in
xxxStretchy satin strings
xxxA woolly yarn mop
xxxFlowing hair and wings afloat
xxxTo clean this dirty sky
xxxTo sop the smelly smoke
xxxThe clouds, darker and darker
xxxThe further in

A layer of strawberry spread
xxxResting upon the dusty earth
xxxSweet light cream, a shroud over bitter coffee’s dark
xxxAnd embarrassed for the sky
xxxCaught in this filthy act
xxxUnwilling to confess
xxxThe horizon turns away his face
xxxCovering in his curtained veil
xxxAnd blushes
xxxPink

editors note: Celestial shenanigans exposed through this poet's eye. I'm blushing, too. - mh

Filling Cracks

featured in the poetry forum September 10, 2014  :: 0 comments

Things squeeze out of cracks
egg whites drip
grass blades strike sidewalks – shooting up
rain sneaks through patio pane

A fatted thigh presses and pops needing ease
splitting seam
earth quakes and rumbles
erupting – releasing power, fire, gas
sand slips
water won’t be held back by cloud

and light slips underneath the locked door
offering radiance
bringing sight

editors note: I need a good caulk for my composure. Only let the light show through. - mh

I Dream the Sea

featured in the poetry forum June 17, 2014  :: 0 comments

I dream the sea wherever I may lie.
The wax and wane of moon pulling tide
to lull me into deeper seas and darker skies.
The ocean’s always been my lullaby,
the crash of wave my hush.
And turning over,
currents swirl as sand shifts
to roll me up in cerulean arms.
Rocking me back and forth,
back and forth
as I drift away once more.

editors note: Bed as boat, sleeper as sailor. - mh

Showerfall

featured in the poetry forum April 15, 2014  :: 0 comments

Millions of stars, millions of nights showerfall,
cascading down intoxicating you with light.
Your eyes pulled to those rapidly gathering them up,
shoving them in baskets, stuffing pockets.
The big ones – shiny ones – ones that sparkle bright.
Which is mine?
Darting, grabbing, stealing all around, their drunken greed
hungrily fed – frenzy – leaving you lost.
Silence sleeps.

The stars are gone – missed moment – weighted air
The crickets chirp their call.
You’ve never come in crashing
your lullaby quietly mine.
Ears straining to hear – waiting for my star to fall.

editors note: So much sparkle and flash. Just need one in your pocket... yours. - mh