Paperwhite Moon
I got a little topsy-turvy being hopeful and you'll have to trust me when I say I don't expect that to be happening again soon.
So. Life is pretty messed up and bent from here to Tuesday. My sister is going home. The one who did the unspeakable things which somehow, somehow...are now speakable and while still tender, are acceptable and forgettable because we, in some kind of Borgian repression of EVERYTHING that came before (read: kicking, bruising, screaming, stealing, shaming, splintering, red-skying, blistering, gewgawing, pandering, garrotting, and damning) are happy to have her back. We're just happy she's not pregnant. I guess.
I'm just happy I don't have to lie about it, if it comes to that. But it was kind of nice imagining that something really bloody awful had happened in my life. And, that is the general irony I share with you, that it didn't happen to me at all. Not this bit. I just shivered a bit in the cold aura of the act. I just saw some pictures of some people lit on fire. I had chicken soup and let the fairies rub my toes.
So. I do feel. Like I told the older, still angry, still understandably so, sister...I'm drawing one or two lines in the sand on this one post-graduation. I will throttle her if she chooses to bring that kind of energy back in. I don't know if I even am able to speak to her, but I'm not going to be called names, insulted, or told I'm anything. I don't even want praise. She's a dirty tap, drawing poison water and I'm not taking anything.
And yes, it even hurts to say that, knowing she'll never read it. I don't know what's worse. I feel like I should put my hatehurt in a paper and bury it in the earth and let all that soil know. The rain doesn't drive the earthworms out, it's all those pained, heartsick people, burying their scarred senses in the ground. Driving up black-eyed susans and earthworms with their fierceness. The sins of my life drive up black hellebore, or monkshood, wolfsbane. No. I elaborate and embellish.
I drive up nasturtiums, which you can put in salads and impress your guests.
Enough. I did a spell, or something of a spell. A rhymed wish. I put it in the air, which is the best you can do when you can't get dirt. I asked for a break, a well and truly broken break. I hope it holds. There's nothing like getting struck by lightning twice on the same spot of your little soft skull.
The night you saved my life...
Yeah, Fred'll do it to you every time.
It's funny how much living you can do in 80 square feet. How much heart and splinter you can work up and chew and construct yourself with.
I'm a sloppy mess tonight. Key Lime Pie and lasagna kind of slop. I find myself waiting and dedicating myself to mornings, to mix cds, to poems, to meetings and unexpecteds. I find myself being impressed by the way I'm living.
God, I never thought I'd ever type such a thing.
EVER. I thought I'd always hate that along with the body that lives the life. But...I'm on an upswing, on a glow. I don't like to leave you thinking I don't love you.
