From Bone To Lace Edge

Don't let your wings drag in the sand.

There's only so much white from bone to lace edge.

If you need to, borrow from the clouds.

Fill yourself with rain.

Remember that lightning on sand makes glass.

Walk on the sky when you get the chance.

Don't let your wings drag in the sand,

no matter gravity always trying to work you.

Feathers fill in one at a time--

there's all day or there isn't.

Earth turning will create its own breeze.

The sky is in motion, sure of its place from any angle.

Everything is ready, ongoing, self-defined.

You should be, too. 

_____

A bit of impromptu nothing for Sunday Muse #6

 

______

 

Remember

Remember the Alamo.

Remember the Maine.

Remember yourself, in my dream last night,

tilting your head the way that's done

when the next word is "no."

In our bed, Santa Anna's Mexican army.

At the breakfast table, saboteurs asking for the Tabasco.  

Sunken steel and mud missions know

how it was and

how I remember you.

______ 

a 55 for my BFF.

 

Bosco

baby Bosc with a stick

My pet store refugee, four months crammed in a small cage with another dog. Stinky but beautiful, I knew you were the one. They had become concerned about you, you'd been there so long. Don't worry, handsome boy, you're coming home with me.

It was obvious you'd never had space before. At first, your gait was clumsy and unsure, but within a couple of days, your herding instincts kicked in and you were running my other two dogs around the yard like a champ. (They weren't thrilled about being "sheep" though!) 

You were a handful, chewing things, peeing in the house for weeks, scared of the dishwasher. One particularly difficult night, I gathered you up and told you, "I know you are very special, little boy. I don't know how, or how I know, but I know it's true." 

Captain Handsome

Not long after that, you seemed to catch hold in life. You began to shine. So much energy! So much joy! And so tireless! You were a brat, too, dropping your toy just out of my reach, again and again, or standing exactly far enough away that a turn of your head put the plaything out of my reach as you grinned impishly, squeaking it, egging me on to keep trying. (My hallway walls are still streaked green, red, and blue from all the toys that caromed off of them for you to chase.)

You only loved me, and no one else, though you grew to like my son late in your life. When guests visited, you silently placed yourself between us. No one else could even touch you. Only your mom. At bed time, you'd bring your toys for me to throw. Why sleep when we could be playing?!? You learned early on that begging didn't fly, but that turning your cheery smile up to Warp Factor 11 worked like a charm. And you had a trick of coming up on the couch, pretending to want a scritch-scratch, and then plopping your large self on me and turning both your winning smile and your Aussie Shepherd stare on me, for a cookie. You always got one.

Whatcha doin', Mom?

When you were 8 years old, you were diagnosed with diabetes. You lost your sight shortly after that, but you knew your home and your yard so well, a stranger wouldn't even have known you were blind. I had to give you insulin shots twice a day for the last 3 years of your life. I never minded. I'd have done anything for you.  Your toenails used to get caught in your curls sometimes, and you would patiently wait for me to notice and come carefully free them. Every day, I always came straight home from work to see you and take care of my sweet boy. You were my whole heart, you know? One day, I had a breakdown on the way home, and was two hours late. You were panicked and beside yourself, and I was too. Didn't you know I would always come home to you, no matter what? 

Bosco the Brave vs. the Snowstorm

All you had to do was walk up to me and you were sure of a happy greeting. You always believed that I could fix anything, make any situation right for you, and I always did. But as you got frailer and more unsteady, I worried about you. As winter approached and I remembered how you struggled the year before despite my best efforts to clear your way from the door to the yard, I knew i couldn't ask you to go through it again. You were 11 years old and more dear to me than I can possibly say. I held you and told you that I didn't want you to go, but if you needed to, you had my blessing. I cried. In less than a week, your back leg failed due to the diabetes and you could no longer stand or walk. The next day we said goodbye. I was there with you, and so was my son, who you had decided was the one other person on planet Earth that you would allow to pet you. 

My son Joe holding his doggy brother at the vet

Bye, baby. I love you so much. I still feel you close by. One day, when my own time comes, I will see you again, my bright-hearted boy. Until then...tears from missing you, smiles at remembering our time together, and your paw print forever on my heart.

Day

Zzzz

(guard mom)

zzzzz

UP!

out

in

Good-N-Fun bone

chew chew chew

scatch

lap

Up!

harness

leash

yes!

door

take mom for walk!

sniff sniff sniff

peeeeeeeee

home again

door

water

couch

pant pant pant

nap

Up!

stare

stare

stare

kitchen

Frosty Paws!

lick lick lick 

chew up container

rest

couch

up

out

help mom

dig dig dig dig

run

sniff

smile

in

lunch

tv

scatch

window!

dog!

ROWOWOW! 

couch

plop

MAIL!

ROWOWOW!

smile

toy

fetch

tug

tug tug tug tug!

fetch

nap

smile

UP!

out

sun

breeze

yay

in

cookie

dinner

couch

cuddle

tv

belly rub

zzzzz

(smile)

UP!

dog on tv!

ROWOW!

good boy

guard mom

couch

scatch

out

moon

cool

pee

(MY yard!)

in

lights out

cuddle

scatch

good boy

turn turn turn

settle

sigh

Zzzzzzz

(guard mom)

zzzzzzzz

dream

feet flipping

zzzzz

am loved!

smile. 

______

for Sherry at Real Toads.

 

Smoov

Hey Smoov,

talking out both sides of your mouth,

tell HER, she's got the rabbit ears for ya;

me, I'm deaf, don't waste your breath. 

All night, she toss and turn if you don't call;

me, I dance all night,

kick the phone right off the wall.

Smoov, you think I'm stupid?

Think you not made of glass, I can't see through ya?

Save your bullshit tap dance for HER,

she hear ya but can't see a damn thing.

She the sweet child, 

I'm the stone bitch.

Everywhere I go, she got to follow me,

crying the blues over you.

She's in my ear,

under my skin,

out to double every losing bet.

Tell HER whatever made-up fairy story you got.

Tell HER how it's gonna be different from now on.

Tell HER, you whiney-ass pencil-dick motherfucker.

Tell HER, not me,

Cos she's the one who loves you.

_____

 for The Sunday Muse #5

The November Eye Of God

Born with a Fleur-de-lis birthmark,

I said, "De la paix du ciel, 
je suis venu pour la guerre."

Men who spoke against me,
who minced and mocked,
have seen their teeth and tongues curl and fall
like leaves under the November eye of God.

Now, as rodent churchmen scurry to lay a puny trap,
I light candles for those I pray for,
and dance on the graves of the rest.

I am not afraid; I was born to rise in righteous flames untouched
to Heaven and there be judged--
leaving behind the clever, the craven,
and just my body's dust.
________

This is a rewrite of an earlier poem "Novembre" which I have reworked for Brendan's "hero" challenge at Toads.

 "De la paix du ciel, je suis venu pour la guerre." = "From the peace of Heaven, I have come for the war."

 

Thought Broadcasting

"Nobody gets me"
is something the thought broadcaster never has to say.
She's a noisy spill, despite still lips.

She thinks, "I'm a bitch today. I need to get laid"
and some guy in China crashes his bicycle.

Diogenes meets her at the diner--
no texted invitation necessary.
She's his bae
bending spoons with hello.
_______

A 55 for my BFF.