PROSE AND CONS

PROSE AND CONS

I want to have a child,

But I wasn’t born with ovaries,

I wasn’t born with a uterus.

I’ll need to ally myself

With a woman,

Lie to a woman,

Lie with a woman,

Lie to myself

I wasn’t born with good eyes,

So I take the arm of good Samaritans,

Or I allow them to take hold of my hand.

To understand the world,

I borrow the sight of others,

The words they use to build

The world I need to know.

Permission granted.

I wasn’t born with sorrow:

I acquired it

From strangers who mistook

My gift for a disability.

Without sight, I write

The world into existence,

Pull words from thin air

And give them to my stories.

Copyright (c) 2010 by the author

INSPIRE

A story begins

When the narrator

Steps forward

And begins

To spill her

Words into my ear,

Teasing me,

Taunting me with

A tale to be told,

An experience shared,

An image indelibly

Imprinted, leaving me

No route, or

Reason to escape.

I am blessed--

I am cursed--

By voices that

Visit,

Waiting to be

Transcribed and translated.

They wait, sometimes

Impatiently, to

Appear upon

A page somewhere-

Their chance to

Become immortal.

Copyright (c) 2011 by the author

OVER/EDEN

OVER EDEN,

Wires crisscross

Carrying cars full

Of tourists who

Can look but

Cannot touch

Where Adam stood

And Eve wandered,

Where Abel farmed

And Cain plotted,

Where they hid together

In shame.

Where is Barnum now?

He could never imagine

Turning paradise into

A theme park,

A show,

A day’s entertainment.

The animals remain,

Hiding from strange eyes.

(Do they know they

Are safe from exploitation?)

All day, the tourists parade

Overhead in open cars

Until the sun

Turns the sky

Into a rainbow tipped

On its side,

And the dreamers

Must leave.

Angels, dressed

As bouncers,

Firmly escort out

Any stragglers

Clear of the space

From which all

Have been

Permanently

Evicted.

A celestial day

Has ended, and all

Must return to lives

From whence they came.

All visitors must

Now leave

The garden

Where omniscience,

Omnipresence and

Omnipotence resided

Once upon

A time.

Copyright (c) 2010 by the author

A GOOD DEED

I went out to dinner tonight. On my way out the door, I grabbed my cane and my purse. My destination was Fudrucker’’s. I had a craving for a hamburger and their spicy fries.

I walked up to the counter to place my order, only then realizing I couldn’t find my debit card. It wasn’t in the pocket of my purse where I normally keep it.

I checked other pockets. I found other things, including a debit card that was no longer valid. But I came up short when I needed to pay for dinner.

I apologized to the cashier, and started to leave. I was thinking of returning once I found the card. Just as I left the restaurant, the woman who had been serving me ran out calling my name.

The manager, she said, wanted to pay for my dinner. I’m a regular at Fudrucker’s, so they know me by name and by sight. I thought about refusing the generous offer to pay for my dinner, but decided to accept it.

It was on my way home that I began to think about good deeds. When should we offer to do them? When should we accept them from others? I’m the first to admit that I can be stubbornly independent: I prefer to be self-reliant, take care of myself, and not be beholden to others for favors. But there’s something to be said for allowing good deeds to be done. For me, in this instance, perhaps the lesson is meant to be humility--I'm not meant to be an island unto myself. For the manager who paid for my dinner, perhaps the lesson is charity.

I still believe in independence≤, but perhaps I need to allow strangers into my life to offer their random acts of kindness. And who am I to deny someone else the good feeling of doing something for me?

Copyright (c) 2010 by the author

TOUCH

She says: touch

Without consent

Equals disturbance.

She says: touch

Without love

Is meaningless.

She says: touch

Without permission,

Is simple assault

She says: touch

With malice

Is always a threat.

She says: touch

Without invitation

Implies control.

A woman’s body

Includes the bubble,

Safe distance between her and the world.

Don’t touch

With intent,

Don’t touch

Without invitation

Don’t touch

Unless touched.

The rules

Are simple enough.

Copyright (c) 2010 by the author

DARK HOURS

The dark hours--

After night falls/

Before dawn breaks--

The volume of the world

Is turned down,

And I can hear

The crickets outside

My window, and the hum

Of a freeway a mile away.

A dog barks at shadows.

This is as close as a city

Can come

To silence.

Copyright (c) 2010 by the author

SING HER SILENT

SING

Her silent,

Mother with child.

It’s enough

That you worry.

You don’t need

Her tears

To drown you

And your hopes.

You don’t khnow

The judge’s mind.

You don’t speak his language

You speak Spanish,

And he

Speaks Legal

When he’s on the bench,

American Legal.

Sing

Her silent,

Mute your daughter’s

Please, please.

Outside this door

You worry,

Whileinside,

I work--

Work within earshot

Of you,

Of her,

Of laws

I didn’t write,

You didn’t write,

that spin

Worlds on their axes.

Your song,

I don’t know the words,

But their intent,

By your voice,

Are meant

To breathe peace

Over a child’s eyes,

Sand man of another language,

Do your duty.

Sounds of sorrow,

Sounds of fear

Dwindling

Down to

Silence

As another day’s

Work begins,

Rending lives

From their temporary place.

Laws of motion send souls

Spinning off the surface

Where seeds

Had been planted,

Harveste

Had been anticipated.

Sing her silent.

Copyright (c) 2010 by the author