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Friday, January 23, 2009

Adventures in Po-e-try

i am a sometimes miracle worker
do not touch me with kid gloves
just rest
watch the angel dust fall from my teeth
and that is not a metaphor
i eat angel food for breakfast
spongecake of a memory soaks me into myself
i stood in this place at least a lifetime ago and willed this poem into existence
stretched my tongue in all directions and said that it would be
and i am
in a word
surviving
all of the things that make life easy
like love, and love, and family
and there is no allegory in alcoholics playing bid whist on sundays over kitchen tables littered with cocaine and crumbs
but there's something in growing up grateful for the moments your grandmother remembers who you are
and i am thankful
for mathematics
and everything holy
like truth stitched in pomegranates on pandora's box
tell me a story
something non-fiction
about the flaws you've found in this fairy tale frenzy
dedicate it to me
and i'll re-write it pretty
because that is what i do
i take things that are ugly and make them beautiful
avalanche out my insides until what's breaking there lays in pieces on the table to puzzle with
i am an alchemist
i make magic from melancholy
like mothers making meals from ketchup and rice
most nights
i come up urgent
until the silence reminds me i'm fragile
like a butterfly wing
or a single snowflake
or a dying child's last prayer
as he stands on the precipice of his new world and remembers the music there
and when he can't
beneath my ribcage is a love without a bottom
help me heartbeat-box him a lullaby to teach him what he's forgotten
this universe
will never miss energy because what matters most will never be lost
though we will always mourn the flesh
and the rest we leave to rain dances
rabbits' feet and old love songs
to circus tricks and patchwork quilts
and rough drafts of finished poems
and i will never again be anyone's second hand good luck charm
but if you need me
i will work wonders
and be a miracle
undone