My Name Is Not Mavis

Reach

There is a time of maybe.
There is a time of almost.
There is a time of generally good,
Might be right, is on the way.

There is a time to rise up on tip toes and reach
For what is almost there on the highest shelf
Because it is yours, dear one. You might not believe,
But you will, with time. You will believe
Whatever magic you most subscribe to
And that will be your life. To reach until you feel
The strain in your arms, your shoulders, your chest wall.
Strain until you vibrate with exhaustion at the effort.
Reach until you grasp all that is right there
And feel the pumping of your vulnerable heart.
A fan that will never betray you.
A breath that will cycle back around
To give you another chance.

Come On

Come on, I call to the darkening skies.
Strike me with lightening and split me open
Like the boulders in the field.
A clean line between then and now
That from a far far distance
Look like art—
The opening of two hands,
Or the two halves of a stubborn heart.

Enter

The temptation of
Do Not Enter
Is what led me astray
To wander afar
From the crowded ordinary
To a lost place of promise
That pleases me with the blooming
Possibility of what can grow
Between the cracks in the cement
And what home can be made
From an old shack
Without glass in the windows
That let enter the nighttime monsters
And daytime wonder alike,
Content with their
Truce of balance
As I am satisfied
With making a living
Within the forbidden.

Resistance to the Tyranny of Your Telling

Tell me I can’t and I will storm across the stage
And disrupt the show.
Tell me how much you love me and I will betray you
Like a promise between school girls
Whispered behind their hands at recess.
Tell me that I am beautiful and I will kick at the dirt
And avoid mirrors for a thousand centuries
Just to prove you wrong.
Tell me the sun will always shine on me if I just let go
And then watch me clutch my angst and snarl to my dying breath.
Tell me to stay forever and I’ll toss everything I know
To the curb as I leave this town.
Don’t you dare tell me that I am
Always enough, satisfaction guaranteed, done.
I will set myself afire and scream across the sky like a firework
That could not wait for darkness.

The Last Cup of Coffee In the Carafe

How can I rest when I am just past my peak,
A puzzle unfinished, slowly turning to dust,
Wanting but not lacking, stretching but not reaching,
Coasting with a nearly empty tank.
How can I rest while there are tasks left unfinished,
And I still feel the relentless drive of purpose.
How can I rest when there is still needing, and I am
Still fighting the monsters in the closet.
Still praying on my knees in the desert.
Still needing to sweep the porch, hang out the clothes,
Empty the bins, take my garbage to the curb.
Witness another sun. As if it will never come again if I don’t.