words #15

365 Buddhas

The chevron of her heartbeat
measured my hours,
her EKG monitor was my clock.
There was no dawn,
no sunset, no lunar phases,
just an open book on my lap,
the pages unturned.

He gave us wounds
like other people give gifts,
carefully chosen for each of us
and wrapped in bourbon and beer.

He wrote my name in salt
and foretold my destiny
in the tea-leaf patterns
of bruises across my skin.

She gave me time.
She waited, listened,
She was a phoenix.
At 55, she was buried in ashes.
She wept them into mud
and made a golem of herself.
She used it to build a house. Her golem
transformed graveyards
into vineyards just so she could see
the purple grapes against pumpkin spice sunsets.
When she traveled the world,
her golem fed her cat.


I’ve run into a problem, which is that…

View original post 88 more words


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s