a first draft of catharsis, september 2013

Under the velveteen dusk

It feels like there are ghosts

Slipping under my petal thin skin

Rising like smoke

Up into my fragile rafters. 

No one knew me then,

My soul held

In mason jars—

My wet back striped

With the dirt of loss. 

I can feel

Arms snake around my waist,

My hollowness—

You cannot hold that,

An emptiness— 

A sliver silvered

By time. 

God told me

He loved you

That you were one

Made to bruise my bones

Under the burning water

That still remains no more holy

Than I was.  

Wind wore away

My crevasses and mountains

Like old sand dunes. 

I dust the earth

Wherever you lie.

And after that summer
I aged like copper,

Filled with want

For the life you took. 

I cannot say the words,

I cannot take a breath

Monstrous enough

To form letters

That make up the past;

Its sounds fill me.

They echo and jump
About me.  

No one knew me then,

My mouth full

Of silences,

My hands wet

With the dew

Of spring pansies. 

But she held me

Her hair smelling of tobacco,

Like I was made of precious stones,

And I let her.