Quiet at the Bay


How has the differences divided us so?

How can you stand there when you know

You can’t turn back

 You can’t rewind.

 

Two paychecks shine in the street lamps

 And you feel the warmth draining

Out of you like blood and you are cold

Like the salt water of the bay.

 

The wind makes you feel the tears

Before they hit the cracks

 and seep into the past.

You wonder if it could have been fixed

if it could have been like every other time

where fights were resolved with cigarettes

and drugs.

 

Its your hands

the ocean is speechless and you stand there

wishing the stars could write something.

 

 

you walk

Leaving us in a small town

Littered with junk and memories

And two broken hearts.

 

Back to school, Back to writing.

Sarah.

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I cry and you stand there

Like a pole lifeless you watch as I get transported back

to a place that had a locked door.

You watch as I rip the veil off my face

and become hollow.

Sunken in you see my bones

But I am too soggy like a wet rag to care.

Tug of war you watch as my mind and body

Pull my limbs like rope until I scream.Wide eyed

You tell me to go, that people are watching, people will think,

People will worry.

The headlights mark where I should be headed

 like a rock I do not budge. I sit watching whizzing

 cars fly down the street like fireflies and I wonder

If they would stop if I stood infront of them.

 what would you do? Watching streetlights hang

like falling stars you wish for another second,

another moment to  sit watch me sleep.

 

 

Beautiful Girl.


 

I watch the men and women

People I knew

People I loved

Black dresses, suits

Emerging into all doors

The clicking of high heels

Echo the empty church

We are waiting

for her

The organ begins to play

An hour glass of time

Till we will see her

Men weeping for a woman

Who touched the young, old

And me, we watch

As she is glides

in a shiny oak casket

Towards the man who she had always loved

Even though he took her only son

The perfume of flowers

Engulf our sense

As our priest

Blankets her in frankincense

Blessing her

And wishing her a safe trip

I watch her daughter

My friend

Stand at a podium

Telling the world how wonderful her mother is

Was

And me thinking

“thank god it wasn’t mine”

salt from my eyes

Slip into my mouth

I look at her

Tearless,

she smiles down

At the mother she once hugged

Once kissed

And says

“I will make you proud mom”

RIP Yvonne Mckay 12/2007

Do you Remember


Do you remember Brother

1971, you were so young

Do remember the choir

Echoing in the empty church

As our grey heroin took her final breaths?

We were all crying brother, wailing

Pleading for her to come back

You screamed

“Someone watch over me”

Do you remember?

Do you remember the silence

the quiet ticking of the clock

counting down the seconds till we’d see her again

Do you remember the moon

It was brighter than ever that night

The Mississippi winter was settling in

And you were cold and alone

Do you remember every morning waiting

Staring out the open window

Watching Snow blanket the solid,dead ground

Do you remember hearing a few sirens

In the distance

Not being concerned, not knowing

Where they were going

Or why

Remember?

Cry Little Boy..


Little Boy why do you cry?

do you cry for your mama

hoping,wishing

that she will come down from the sky

Do you cry because you look at yourself in the mirror

and you’re disgusted by what you see

just like we are?

Do you crack the mirror with your fist

as your warm salty tears

stain your face like blood?

Do you plead to your mother

not caring if she can hear you

Do u wish you can meet her in heaven

because being alive is too much work

for a young boy like yourself.

Little Boy why do you cry

why do stare out the window

and let the tears fall like a steady rain

Are you lost in your thoughts

wondering if she can change anything

from so far away?

Cry Little Boy Cry

because crying isn’t a sign of weakness

its a sign of pride.

I have a little boy on my bus and all he does is cry. I don’t know why he cries but he cries everyday  and some kids look at him weird but I’d rather cry in public than be constipated in thoughts.

Sarah.