Sandy

Sandy put a wedge of lemon in the corner of her eye
so that she might seem more exotic.
Informed of this, the warden had her taken
out of gen pop and placed on risperidone and light tasks such as
arranging
her origami family figures
across 
her 
desk
in order of which she loved best down to least.

The thing about Sandy is that she took elocution lessons
in order that she might curse more clearly
at her celly and the matrons.
The more florid her language became, 
the more she sounded like a potty-mouthed Helen Mirren.
The warden was forced to remove Sandy's tongue and hide it
high on a shelf in her office
where onyx birds
sang songs from pyrite throats
all about which of her inmates she loved most, down to least.

Finally, Sandy and the warden came to an understanding
which involved a Catholic bishop and a solemn promise by Sandy 
not to cuss anymore.
"I shan't," she said,
assuming Helen Mirren's place in the warden's roster of recoveries
and walking straight out of the women's pen into origami domesticity
where black birds fold their wings 
into Oriental characters
depicting the most amazing transformations from best down to least

with Sandy's at one extreme end like an egg or a bomb or a glitter ball.
_______

for Get Listed at Toads. I used onyx, lemon, elocution, shelf(ves), risperidone, and warden.

My New Book Is Here!

Hello my readers! I have exciting news. My new book of poems, "My Mad Love" is out and it's available at Amazon.com! I'm really excited about it!

"My Mad Love: poems out in the noonday sun" is divided into five sections: Travel Stories For Girls, The Doctor Will See You Now, Clever Gypsies, Boris & Natasha Live Again, and Catholic Girl On The Loose. Regular readers will recognize most of these as being labels I use frequently here at Word Garden.

In my book, you'll find story poems like "The Catalonian", in which a woman plots escape from her botanist husband, "In The Eggshell Of My Mind", the story of a woman detained by the secret police because they want her to tell them about the beauty of her lover's hair, "Paul Newman's Eyes" about a woman astronaut who never really returns to earth after retirement, and "Valentina" about a wannabe actress who learns assertiveness from her tiger lover.

There are quite a few rhyming or form poems here, including  "Favor", "Crow Against The Moon" and "The Healing".

Pack your suitcase for "Paris, Au Revoir", "St. Petersburg" and "The Girl Who Dreamt Of Polar Bears." 

And, of course, there are lots of love poems, including "The Hill Is Closer To Heaven", "Fire", "Crusade", "The Queen Of Small Spaces" and, naturally, the title poem.

None of the poems which were included in "Gemini/Scorpio/Capricorn", my combined poetry volume with Kelli Simpson and Joy Ann Jones, are repeated here; this is all different stuff. After G/S/C came out, there were so many poems I couldn't believe I didn't include, that I decided to do a whole book, and here it is. Besides, it's time to see if I can do it without Kelli and Joy propping me up!

I hope you'll read my book. I know you'll enjoy it. 

Shay

face

if you see my face some time
on another woman
when you have her in your arms and her smile pleases you,

if that face fits your bed,
your breast,
your dreams,

remember, she is a thief.
while i masquerade in the streets, wearing old leaves,
that woman has my face
and your love
because of it.

if you see me some time
walking in the autumn,
staring at a blue sky stranger in the surface of the canal,

i will be alone,
always,
without remedy,

in love with you, and your beauty, as evening comes
and you put your arm around the imposter,
under the pretty, lit globe of a light by the walk--

it will illuminate

what was rightfully mine,
but never had the simple grace
to find me.
__________ 

Buddah Moskowitz Invades Fireblossom's Dreams

So I dreamed that Buddah Moskowitz mailed me all this stuff.
So much!
It wouldn't nearly fit in the mailbox.

There was poems.
And crazy bullshit, little gadgets I couldn't even understand what they were for,
And his old watch. What am I supposed to do with that?
The face is as big as my whole hand!
I wonder if it works underwater?
I wonder if you can see what time it is inside a cave at midnight?
I wonder how he got my address?!

And oh yeah, there was these five big boxes full of old newspapers, and
And...
(Should I even be telling you this?)
And like a zillion dollars in cash.
Man, can this girl use it.
Thanks, Mosk. I like your blog too!

So, I did what any sensible, well brought-up Catholic gal would do...
I bought a ginormous honking handgun,
A black 1960 Chrysler with an engine a girl can feel right through the bench seat,
And went on the run.
Eat my dust, assholes!

Guys with soul patches tried to swipe my stash,
But their bullets may as well have been made of pudding.
I was fierce! Rawr!!!
Gitcher motor runnin'...
This beat going to work any day.

I took it out west.
Lookit, Arizona is still there! I'll stop and see Dani.
We can eat at some dopey chain restaurant and order anything
Cos I've got a zillion dolla.
More quesadillas for you ladies?
Why, yes, we don't mind if we do.

Thank you, Buddah Moskowitz, for the zillion dollars,
And the creepy guy-watch,
And the poems, which were eggs-ellent.
I will think of you every time I floor the Chrysler.
I will pay your tab at Danny's Coffee Shop.
I will put the top down
And let the moon work on my head a little more,
Whether that's wise
Or necessary
Or not.
_____

Nice

Nice to see you again.
Nice like slamming the door on my hand,
Nice like cramps,
Nice like kiss my ass.

I wish I had back every word I ever said to you,
So that I could eat them,
So that I could shit them smack in the middle of that sanctimonious crap you call sobriety.

Nice to know you're alive.
Nice like a stick in the eye,
Nice like fuck off and die.

Thought I'd forgive and forget?
Fat chance.
Nice try.
Love was the drug,
But hate is the high.
______