Bravery

I am from four hands
of four arms of two
bodies
that haven't broken:
            a young woman with one swollen eye,
            a man who kisses her
            on New Year's Eve
            at midnight.

I am from the hazy peace-
half asleep, or at least
pretending, so that
Dad would carry me inside.

I am from the bathtub
and twin night gowns, tiny
twin feet smacking the floor,
and twin nightmares-
because we always shared a room:
            some summer nights,
            we'd stay up talking
            forever when it was too hot to keep our eyes open.

i miss you
i am missing so much

i am from there, too.

i am from the almighty edge of
all of it, the metal strip
where the carpet meets the kitchen
            where my knee met a nail
            when I fell
            chasing Jenny.

i swear to god i love them
and i've got the scars to prove it.

            some come from the backwards little lie, the
                   love unfelt
                   until you lose it.

I am from homemade Christmas
ornaments and hospital visits and
the smell of cigarette smoke
at the beach,

the boardwalks, bicycles, and
m y  b r o t h e r ' s  t e e t h
littering our street like little
crumbs, glittering
like the blood, red,
like the sun
shining through his broken jaw,
obliterating the still-spinning spokes
of his big boy bike, tangled in
a pile on the pavement.

He flew, in the truest (my
father's arms and legs
stretching to catch him,
impossible) sense of the word.

He couldn't eat for a week,
but stil found a way to push his
jokes out through his mangled mouth, and
hum.

This is the kind of bravery and love
that we are from,

the tears when they told her
that Santa wasn't real,
the birthday candles left
unlit, you know, to grow on.
            (those are where you're from,
             and where you go.)

I know the truth,
I have to go. I'm sorry,
I am, but I am ready,   I am strong,
I am falling and will be sung
to sleep with the light on.

Untitled

When I was six, fine art meant anything I touched with my baby hands, My finger-paintings, sparkly pine cones, ceramic hand prints, maccaroni Christmas ornaments and family portraits were held in high regard. When you're little, beauty  really is in the eye of your beholders, and everything that glitters is gold.

One day, I decided to take some magic markers and fully color both my legs. I considered myself a masterpiece. When my mother asked me about what I'd done, I told her I didn't know, but I was sad to see my work turn the bathwater brown and piroutte down the drain.

Holy LYRICS, Batman

Future Foe Scenarios- Silversun Pickups

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xu2SjgmLQHE

"but when the night is over and the walls start linking
when fire starts to matter and the clock's still sinking
cliches and other chatter keep our minds from
thinking
our minds keep thinking

it's alright

that's when it turned on me
a motorcade of 'meant to be's’
parades of beauty queens
where soft entwines make kindling
these many detailed things
like broken nails and plastic rings
will win by keeping me
from speaking to my new darling
and there's no way to know
our future foe scenarios
that's when it turned on me
where bobby pins hold angel wings

it's alright"