Sassy, red, orange, blue—-

I can do many things,

And never make a sound.

I can throw hundreds of pounds on my back

And pretend that I am not feeling my bones crunch, and muscles sprain under such pressure,

Because

Beautiful, sassy, sun

I got a last look at you.

I remember how each step of my aching heart would pulse old, putrid, acrid, ill-gotten blood from bad veins,

And the oxygen would crease into my chest,

Like a soft smoke curling from a deep, dark raven’s

Cry,

I read my messages of hope surging in my stories, not ever believing

Once upon a time was for me.

I also knew my own reflection,

But slowly it morphed into a murky, dark well

Of silent, wrenching pain

And black & blue baby tears that sunk into the shallow earth

Tumbling like mist from a mountain.

I have carried loads from many hills, up, up and down

That look like fried green grief,

And burnt up toast crumbled on my face,

I have no sense of pride of my clothes,

Cloth is grieving like a tortuous wrap

Around my curves,

Which I love,

But I want to be tall, tall, strong

As strong as I’ve had to feel,

As worthy as I assumed I am,

To show it to bright young sons of life and hope, Jewish and cheeks full of blood

And dreams.

Recurring a dream once,

Of bright sunshine

And a stream,

Of whipping grass,

Of drinking in laughs,

of one last

Look,

Of being myself in a rush of cloth that finally fits me right,

And how I can no longer keep sinking into the woods behind the old house,

The stream so shallow yet deep,

Of melancholy and warm This is

Only

A

Dream