Poetry through the Seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Awakening to count sheep
in my pajamas,
unable to replace
bad deeds with good,
I lie to you.
Number three and a handshake,
told in shadows and tones.
Guilt holds me under
‘til my body rises,
pain deep in the center
like a rock.
He takes her
to the hilltop
in chains,
but she won’t listen.
She’s a brick,
all softness gone.
Thin lines,
not always drugs,
prove still addictive
and, having a long time fear of water,
drown me in my own guilt,
calling from the darkness
as I sink below.
expectations
are like handcuffs
with no key
leaving you tied
to your bed in a
compromising position
* * *
I want to grunt
and bury my hands
up to the armpits,
sway my hips
and dance my legs
around you
‘til I’m stained,
past possible
to clean.
Then I’ll come again,
blue and billowy
before you,
push my hair
behind one ear,
you sweet young thing.
So scrubbed
and oh so damaged.
Faded stains,
but never clean.
Your eyes are clouds of medicated bliss,
mean and sparkling as you speak.
It hurts, I say.
Yes, you sneer, eyes bright like clear luster marbles.
The brutality leaves me stripped of my powers.
Like a baby, so soft, the words raise blisters on my skin.
Am I just a story you tell yourself?
I dream a man ties you up.
He hates mothers, having suffered much at their hands.
This vial is my betrayal,
a slow, steady poison passed down, mother to daughter.
Can’t you please leave me intact when you go,
one final suit of armor to protect me?
A glimpse of dull grey fear shadows your eyes,
and I soften.
I have no wish to fill your remaining time with torture.
Disease delivers enough of that.
Pain is real and I keep it close for comfort
as you lead me through the fog.
I follow because I know no other way.
I am your only child.
On fire
with hatred,
danger camps
on every doorstep.
They burn witches,
don’t they,
to cleanse the ills
of society?
Trouble stirred
into caldrons of chaos
while the accusers
hide under their beds.
Symbols tattooed
on the skin of the tortured
remind us
something’s always out there.
Can’t fear be teacher,
sewn from scraps of sorrow,
guiding us with knowledge
rather than arming us for battle?
In different beds,
we dream
the same dream.
Between us,
so dark,
so hidden,
lie lost children’s lives,
mother’s nightmares.
The enemy is
on my doorstep.
I can never be redeemed.
I undress you
for the last time,
for the first time.
Flesh fulfills our destiny.
Then from my arms,
she is stripped,
the beautiful girl,
and I am alone.
she chances
to see them together
bile
what was once love
rises up
into her throat
she runs away
slipping on deceit
and falls to her death
her heart impaled
on betrayal’s sword
* * *
Love,
my disease
most desperate,
ripped from the vine
like raspberries,
red ripe and squashed
beneath my feet.
Love has me
shattered
into bitty pieces,
has left me smoldering.
Violet dark
and brooding,
love promises
to destroy us all.
Pain deeper
than a stake
through love’s
bitten heart,
so deep
is the river
I might
drown.
Hands join in battle,
friendship,
in love.
Hands move in pairs.
Holy lips bring fire,
burn house down.
Hands touch as lips,
creating great
disturbance.
Armless,
we lose the chance to hug.
In pairs,
we come back.
Alone,
we are fingers.
Together, hands,
joined
to make a difference.
In the tower,
I watch you healing;
it’s a self-served
march to freedom.
Memories, they float
like chocolate,
taste me sweet
inside the mirror.
And I radiate
with power
to the unposed
questions answered,
as the master
turns a cartwheel
to become
the great pretender.
Still the children
won’t forgive me
if you sleep
without your nighty.
Breathing in
the tortured cadence
and I want to take
you with me,
but I’ll stay.
Men are beasts.
Even the good ones
betray.
get away from me
He got mean
and you
loved him still.
Happens all the time.
he’s not
always like this.
Afterwards
he won’t remember.
blueberry kisses
and he’ll protect you.
You watch him sleep
in beastly shivers,
waiting
for the savage
to call your name.
Your name is a song,
I’m lost in the chorus.
Hiding out from my life,
from your death,
I work hard to forget,
filling ketchup, pouring coffee,
wandering streets
in missing pieces. I am
no one.
Despair’s gates, like heavy
bars, crush even murmurs
of love remembered
‘til destiny, in its way,
draws me homeward
and, in its embrace,
I begin to heal.