because you burn

when I am angry, I strip away names.
I leave behind pseudonyms, ragged flaps
where meaning has been stripped away,
flags hanging tattered, hardly stirring.

when I am angry, I tear chunks entire
out of a high-riding moon, white
behind clouds like bone. Anger rides me,
makes my tongue clear and sharp,
curls my fists when I sleep.

there is so little solace in the red nights,
when the memory of knives lies,
an unwanted lover in my bed.
I remember my own name being stripped from me
so many times over, flayed bare
and spitting with disgust.

the scars still lie shallow under the skin.

and when anger strips my name I walk
outside on a stormy night, treading
on the daisy petals the wind has scattered
on my doorstep. They have no right,
they should be red. How dare they
be white and beautiful, glowing
in the seagrass mat, the dragonscale weave
catching them one by one
as the autumn looses them from the flowers?

how dare they fall on my doorstep
and taunt the shadows and the hidden moon?

even my own name, lost,
hidden shining among flowers
laid low by winter, approaching.

[this poem is not cooperating. It's very frustrating.]

I'm all packed and ready to go. The car is packed, my clothes for tomorrow morning are laid out, and the dishes are done and put away. Tomorrow, at 6 AM, I leave to go hang out with my mom's family for a day or two.

Back later, after turkey.

By the way, I did a pretty cool online survey today. Go see.

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