Words
Writers write but
words harass us.
Tenacious words intrude on my thoughts so
I gargle some and spit them out.
It clears the palate.
I gather the remaining words like
wayward children and
coax them down from edgy precipices,
line them up and
parade them like glamorous showdogs.
I pluck unruly words
from haunted daydreams.
I shake captured words in my
cupped hands and roll them like dice,
repeating until I hit upon a satisfactory combination.
Sometimes, though, I kiss words gently
one sentence at a time.
© 2003 Lorian Gray
My Mother
My mother clutches her secrets like a
tightly wound string of pearls.
To release one would scatter the entire rosary.
I try to coax her to let go of one, but
I may as well try to pry open an oyster.
Her secrets are heirloom jewelry,
locked for years in a treasure chest,
buried in the depths of the murky sea of the
abyss of her soul.
So I reach out to her and try to
embrace the emptiness.
My mother flutters like a cornered dove,
grasped by too greedy hands.
She eyes me suspiciously.
She needs reassurance that her guarded heart is
safe with me.
I open the palm of my hand and wait.
© 2003 Lorian Gray
Weeds
The strongest plant in my garden
is an unidentified weed
meandering casually up the
side of my house;
a creeping, twisting drove of
viney tendrils and unhurried leaves.
I look at my lilac bush that I nursed along,
it's delicate folds whispering
the first delicious hints ofspring,
a perfume to be savored
for the fleeting moments of bloom.
And there’s the crooked trellis that
suddenly sprouted roses
one day after the rain stopped
and I walked by and was startled tosee
blood red petals growing on leafygreen veins.
It strikes me how
unplanned and utterly neglected
this weed has been
and yet it has thrived.
It reminds me of how in my life
things just go so much more smoothly
when I am doing the wrong thing.
© 2003 Lorian Gray
God’s Glass Eye
I am the keeper of my soul
The lock at the gate
The window in the door.
I open one eye
And blink.
Take comfort in the full moon,
God is not watching over you!
That’s me in the night sky,
God’s glass eye.
I am stumbling in the dark but
I
Am the light
At the end
of the tunnel.
© 2003 Lorian Gray