You were gone then.
A shadow on my eyelids
A paper ghost that hovered at my bedside
Shouting bitter nothings in my face until the morning light
Came streaming through that summer window
To kiss my cheek goodnight.

Two weeks gone then.
A cadavre, a monster, a spook,
Forcing me to watch the sunrise at night
As if to say “Look.”
“Look at this mess you’ve made of it all.”
“And what a fool you were not to see.”

“Two weeks gone and I’ll remain”
Then two months, then a third.
I wonder when the decade’s gone
If you’ll be there at the new year
With sparklers in hand
Spelling “look” in the mothball air.

Fool me once, twice even,
But the third I’ll throw myself to the blade;
Willingly, heart and chest open.
Look at me now, you villain, you creep.
Look how my blood runs freely,
How red it is, how sweet.
Look at me now, my black eyes
My swollen feet and my dulled throat.
Look how I defeated you, dragon
By choosing my own iron tower.
Look how I owned and rued the day
And see how I sleep alone at night.


all this I did, and more

when you told me to get lost
I don’t think you meant
in your grey-ichor eyes

when you told me to leave
I don’t think you meant
them so I could be with you

when you told me you’d had enough
I don’t think you meant
of longing for me in my absence

when you told me you hated me
I don’t think you meant
only when I was cruel or unkind

when you told me to go away
I don’t think you meant
for my heart to grow fonder by every aching wretch of a second

when I told you I loved you
I don’t think I knew the fine line
between love and obsession

I don’t think I know now
but when you told me you missed me
I don’t think you meant
the steel cage that now stands where a fragile girl once fell

image: My Sky Is by helena888


Winter lifted my spirits til I was a treetop angel

With candlelit canopies tucked discretely in at my feet.

See now how non-descript I am; I am only happy –

As was then and was again when I fell

Into that emptiness, carefree nothingness below. Blown off billows from eastern

shores –

I knew then I was sure of my non-identity

For I left on oak no marks, nor crevices, nor stains on satin-writing sheets,

But passed through these trees in aimless glee, and left all in my wake exact

– just as was before.

The Audience Mime

Blind Mozart,

How dare I scorn you for not seeing

Your nose.


How dare I

Shame genius’ inadequacies when my own

Flaws and muteness are shameful for being


How dare I

Jeer and shout and cry when you play

To an empty hall, when I myself

Fill it.

How dare I

Listen to music – gentle waves and symphonies

Crafted by your loneliness – without showing that

I am here.


Blind Mozart,

How dare I scorn you if I am but

Your nose.

Bohemian Jungle

The regal cub sleeps, her sentinel
A toothpick vulture, perched;
Had Nature spurred – had teacher learned –
The Sun would rise and not felt.
Those lessons unlearnt are built
In ores of walls, gold, ichor, azul,
In grassy tables, eateries and quilts,
Watch at your peril, or see me now
I’ll starve like a king, you’ll drown in my sheets.