Dancing
Feet
When I look at my feet
I think of you.
I think of the feet of the girls you dance with.
I think of their bodies, hardened
Flexible
Capable of much more than mine.
I never thought about my feet much
Before you.
My monkey feet.
I can turn door handles with them.
I can pick things off the ground with them.
When I try to stretch them
They cramp.
I wonder if I’m capable of the perfect extension,
The strength, the grace
I imagine you look at my attempt
And think to yourself
“she’s not really a dancer, she’s just a girl who dances.”
Dancing feet.
I know how to work a crowd
I could win medals
If I had the right feet
If I were more flexible
I could be amazing.
Then you’d love me.
I hear your voice in my head
Like a broken record
Always repeating
“I’m interested in people who are good at things”
And I was
Good at things.
But not the kind of things
That kept you interested.
I was good at keeping us fed.
I was good at listening to you talk about your day
I was good at sharing.
Sharing my life,
My car,
My time.
I was good at touching you.
Loving you.
At least, I thought I was.
Might have been.
I was good at giving.
I gave, I gave, I gave, I gave
And in all my giving
I forgot to be good at things.
All the books
They said
The change had to start with me
“The change”
Like some grand, orchestrated event
Like the sky was going to freaking part
And let the rains of self-discovery drum down on your curly head
And you’d open your eyes
And really see me
As if for the first time
After a long time
And you’d reach out your hand
And you’d move a hair from my face
And you’d say
Wow, I’ve never been so in love.
Because you’d see
You’d finally see
me
Other Songs
I’ve been listening
To that musician
The one who wrote that song
The one we sing together
You know the one
You play it on the guitar
And we sing it
And it is so cute
It makes us barf
He wrote other songs
Some not so cute
And some that give me hope
That someday, someone will love me
Like you couldn’t
Dreams
We built a dream of all time
Grandiose
And I wrapped my future around it
And it pulsed
We gave it life
This dream we crafted, wove
ourselves into it, out of
time
And mind
And into a land
Where lovers always win
Where love is always enough
Because love bashes the bad
against the wall
And we laugh to see it bleed all
down the chipped paint
Maree.
Australia.
Dance.
Our Ridiculous Restaurant.
Now I stare at blank, seafoam
walls.
You are nowhere
But in my dreams.
My mother’s breath
It’s what I didn’t know
That trapped me
In the end.
I thought I could understand
And I did
I always did
More than they thought I could
And it killed
To have the smell
Linger.
I once painted in the lines of
Grandmother Willow
And you came to say goodnight
And now whenever I smell wine on
someone’s
Exhale
I think of Grandmother Willow.
Though, on my own breath,
I think of dirty catboxes.
I thought I had learned from her
She said
Don’t marry someone’s potential.
But, if people change, if they
grow with you,
Are you marrying potential?
A vision?
Shouldn’t we all be given the
space to change?
To grow?
Extra limbs, a violin arm,
A loving smile
That crinkles my eyes…
Love
I can’t love you back to health.
I gave you the best of me
You were my family
You made me believe in
commitment.
I believed you’d never break my
heart.
And yet
I am staring at it
Effusive, stinking mess of broken
strings and smelly holes.
If it had legs it would kick out viciously
It would, of course, blame me if
it could talk
I’m sure I’d get an earful
Might even go deaf
Or blind.
It would lash out, had it arms, it would wring necks
It would rip all my underwear
Because every article
Reeks
Of you.
It would throw shoes
Pee on the rug
It would demand an explanation.
How could you go from Love to Can't?
And something inside
Knew it
That you couldn't forgive me
And that’s why I cried all the way to school.
