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cordisyou write a love poem
& don't tell anyone--
you've forgotten how to love, no one
understands your heart
you stop writing poems that mean anything,
just words after words.
at 13 I drew an anatomical heart
from my mother's formaldehyde book--
just the veins pulsing from inside the page,
sucking up every wet ruby I'd seen in my lifetime
into a technical marvel.
& I learned how to juice my heart
like a sour lemon,
a singularly womanly dissection.
& you practice knowing how flesh will part,
tell people you are protecting yourself,
but never from yourself.
the path of sneaking into bathrooms,
hiding under the shadows
disappearing actsshe is so good at harm
without knowing the rules or
if there's an escape plan
she goes to eat, alone,
to bed, alone.
there are flowers in the house
even with ten inches of white blankness
separating the ground from the sky--
she separates herself into the midst-mist,
the middle of each plane is where
she makes "home" in the bokeh
that the eye can never focus on.
she dissipates into the morning grey
because she is no longer loved
by the sea or the windows or the paintings
in the DAM.
not even the girls walking Colfax
in their seven inch skirts & five inch heels
pay her any notice.
she learned from a young age
Extreme Behaviour 101you dream of a tree on your back, a crow
on your shoulder, whispering to you,
feathers floating free,
the wind covering your body like a
wild animal, you have no more rules
for this body.
you write a love poem
for the uninterested--
tuck it under the mattress for a
younger generation to find
or the man who comes to take your bed
after you move away into the hills,
never to be seen again.
there comes a time for phone calls to home
for phone service to extend into the universe
where you've hidden among the exploded supernovas
in an attempt to fix things that you didn't break.
mother's spasming hands that drop dishes to the cold
Need A Heart? Take Mine...I was slowly beginning to surface through the heavy clouds of anesthesia when my eyelids were wrenched open and a bright light penetrated through the haze moving rapidly from eye to eye.
"Steven... Steeeeven... Hellloooo... Yoohoo, Steven wake up. Can you hear me Stephen?" The voice couldn't have been anyone besides my cardiologist, an annoying middle aged man that probably still lived with his mother. I found it hard to believe that he passed medical school and it was even harder for me to believe that he was the best in the country.
I attempted blinking and was successful after Dr. Nahill realized I was awake and also perfectly capable
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More