Fraught

Soaked in partisan 

Slaps lungs tangled up with heart beats

Lost to stubbled life

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Pot Bound

My outgrown tangled roots
are bound for a bigger pot
always

Tradition states my choice…
and it’s two sizes too small
as they say
so the moment I’d settled
my roots had already grown out
left most untidily tangled

To be frank, I’m tired
after two times too many plantings
my leaves droop as I fight for space
against myself, to be sure

but I’m frighted of a too big pot
one in which I might get lost
what if the edge is far away?
so I can’t find it
to sit decisive-like and say
“I’m clearly too big for this pot
I must make myself smaller”

Alice

My heart has a double beat
occasional and reckless
I call her Alice
She’s normal, they say
until she starts to sing

I’m not ready to listen
but she stays with me
until I cough her back to sleep
scared of what she’ll tell me

she’ll say;
what I know of truth isn’t
what i interpret in others isn’t
or what I believe of myself isn’t

real

Oh Alice

Wolf Willow

In your wildest of mind
dressed in your fairest furs
there was a lightness of air
breathing in through the patio door

It was a silvery air singed at the tip
onto which I set your imagined life
style was served as it danced away
and I was enlightened by the weary trip

In moments across the patio door
your furs wrestle with Wolf Willow
whilst mine sing with lavender bees
these wildest of minds locked through the summer screen

Wrinkled in obligation
you built a wall against the damned wind
locked out the smell we couldn’t devour whole
to keep our fur clean and sweet.

Conditions

Conditions
on the road to your heart
like lightning in the dark
electrified at a glance
left with the thumping rhythm of the rain
and the wipers as the storm
presses cold fingers
against the window.

Conditions
on the road to your heart
are snow drift lined sunny skies
and even with sunglasses on
to fight glaring realities
breaks are still applied unnecessarily
there is a skid before tires scream
into a lazy spin towards the ditch.

Conditions
on the road to your heart
slow down for construction
with miles of hearts lined up
not committed to being a part of anything,
content to be alone and frustrated
by the lack of forward momentum.
A familiar ache to get
where you’re supposed to be
at the right time
for the right thing to happen.

Conditions
on the road to your heart
alone in the dark with headlights
following to close from behind,
making the way forward unclear
and no matter what speed you go
you can’t shake the feeling
that you might be going
the wrong way.