Tag: The Junction

I Don’t Send Christmas Cards To You Anymore

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Photo by Jenny Smith via ReShot

An Audio Poem

I don’t send Christmas
cards to you anymore
and while that may not
be a thing to share with
others for many people,
it is something I think about.
eighteen years of celebrations
and laughing and love and gifts
and . . . and . . . every fucking thing
else and now . . . nothing.

I walked away from a vehicle
that was a financial burden
when the price was right
and I thought immediately after,
“This is something _______ would
do, not me.” but, there I was,
nodding to the rhythm of the
words coming out of the
sales associate’s mouth. 
I took my check and ran.

the dog buries herself in
my lap, nesting painfully–
my thighs have scratch marks
failing to heal.
I spoil her. 
she can have her way.
hers is a pain I don’t mind.

I set myself up, Shutterfly’d
customized holiday cards with
my smiling face plastered on
the front — the dog, wearied and
bothered on the back.
this is our way of
being present in a time
where place is no longer
tangible — I can’t touch it.
I can’t get to it.

I’ve spent these last two years
secretly weeping over a woman
who has yet to call me
to ask me to return.
how egoistic of me — how
traditionally insufficient. 
but I said it. I admit it.
shouldn’t this count for something?

winter is spinning around
the lonely souls — blanketing
us with past loves and reminding
the willowed bones of
their frailty. what would I
say if I heard your voice today?
how would I react?

who knows? who knows?
I just know it’s one more year
of no Christmas card to you
and no redemption for me
and that . . . still hurts
when it’s not supposed to — 
not anymore.

Originally published in The Junction via Medium.

Da Ai (Greatest Love)

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A narrative audio poem

Photo by Michael Lane via Redshot
Da Ai (Greatest Love) Audio

it is Saturday morning
before the birdsong ends,
my neighbor tests his drone.
he prepares its landing
just before Jernee and I
cross his path.
he giggles excitedly at his
accomplishment.

I say to him, “Like a little
kid on Christmas Day.”
he responds, “Almost.”
the joy shivering through
his skin is contagious.
I giggle too.
I watch him swoop his
body through the air — throwing
it at the sun, following the seeker.

this moment of happiness
is logged into my
memory bank. I’m
blessed by its occurrence.
he crosses over from his
side of the complex to
mine, plants his feet onto
Autumn’d grass, and sets his
toy free into the air again.

his smile remains.
I pick up my stride
getting close to our building
I feel the pressing of air
charging for my veins.
this is my favorite season — 
it pulls my body out of
mourning and we welcome
the dead and the dying
knowing new life is ahead.

the sun opens its eyes,
clearing the crust of the
previous night, and light
kisses my face. I motion
my eyes to my neighbor and
he’s shooting his head in small
spurts to the right, guiding
his robotic friend to safety.

Jernee is a strutter.
she attacks our walks with
the vigor of a playful puppy instead
of a senior and I am somewhat
jealous of this gift.
I pace myself, battling a
shoddy ankle from a shower fall
five years ago.
the pain still lingers, but
I fight it head-on.

the greatest love for me
at this very moment is
walking ahead of me,
tags and metal identifiers clinking
together — little random bells
making their own music.
a signal that we have arrived
home and can now 
find sweet rest.

*Author’s Note: I am currently reading, Greatest Love by Dr. & Master Zhi Gang Sha with Master Maya Mackie and Master Francisco Quintero. It’s a great piece of literature in which to lose myself after a few stressful days of work.

Originally published in The Junction via Medium.