It has been months since I put poems on paper. This morning was an exorcism long overdue.
I never said experiences with demons couldn’t end happily.
The Sounds of Heartache
Sister Stevie sings
and I weep, clench my fists.
So many sounds speak
for my heart,
that duct-taped mess:
mariachi wedding marches,
a dog’s whimper,
old school rap songs the old gang shouts in unison,
the clink of beer glasses,
of those jogs I call running,
running away from the years of
I held a funeral for the poet I was
but like the phoenix tattooed on my back,
Underneath the silver stickiness,
for the future I pretend
I don’t want or need.
Inside my heart, that tough little survivor,