mbrazfield (c) 2022

she spills her thoughts unto a loose leaf notebook page with an old blue Bic ink pen
her kitchen table strewn with paper scraps cheap chocolates and charity meals from St. Vincent’s
on her bed plastic liners rolling papers and blue aluminum bags tufts of tobacco on her sheet an old exaggerated Brave on the label
arms scarred by a childhood rash disease that taught her plenty about loneliness
now she the matriarch of two generations birthed from her
she wanders down the halls watching the world through an orphaned telescope
i like watching her turn her room apart
to show me husband’s funerary ashes
and dead baby one shot down before his prime
is the conversation everyday
then my turn to drive away
to punch on keys a progress report
about the life of another woman
whose had to pay a staggering price for wanting happiness

tough skin

like a tree in the dead of city
tough skin is what i need
to think about myself
as standing tall and without bend
tickling the sky with my leaves
tough skin is what i speak
through the chirps of tawny birds
and the billions of bugs’ marching feet
along the branches of my trunk

mbrazfield (c) 2022

this whole again

1. on the edge life sits
2. the sky orange with tinge
3. of the progress by man
4. if we tilt we lose footing
5. if we bend we lose grace
6. the compromise too great
7. so we sit unknowingly
8. but not silent
9. fingers say our words
10. our tongues no longer needed
11. my body moulded by ballots
12. but what of the soul
13. a spirit cracked
14. where the better angels
15. how to make
16. this whole again

mbrazfield (c) 2022

31536000 seconds

farewell again
in the cold starlight
no roar of laughter
just faint clinks
of crystal flutes
champagne and hope
no silk dresses
just fluffy socks
hoodies and tea
Twilight Zone marathon
in the background
children squealing by the orange trees
while mom and dad clean up
after the pug
thoughts about health scares
anxiety and quick sand rage
mingle like oil and water
with the laughter of my beloved
tomorrow is a fresh start
a dash to new goals and new tolls
under the mercy of our chosen ones
as long as the sky is blue
as birds sing and flit across my yard
i can face with a strong chin
the next 31536000 seconds

tired like Kaufman

the sun is out she wears orange
freckles are her spots that cause chaos
upon the lines in the sand yesterday
the avocado trees gave without regret green
they were now the willows hang there
i just another organism single celled alone
yes the grass blades dewey with blood
from shedding flower cannibals deep among clouds
then the bus explodes its breaks the chosen
ones get off weighed down by sad
moons broken heart he a stoic far
beyond the grasp of the Neptune comic