DLD to DD July 27th, 2012
For Those Who LivedWalking dim-lit places
in a minds-eye nation
I can but imagine; those who lived
Gnarled hands, their cracked and broken skin
Adorned with scars and jagged nails
Still flecked with darkened blood the gore of viscera
Stripped from prey
Hardly less weathered and sparse than their elders
Make play with stick and stone and bits of bone
To shunt aside the thoughts of hunger
a long three days
Their mothers scrape and chew those last-meal pelts
For cord and comfort at the coming winter
One crippled clansman sits, a watchman on a knoll
Spies the weary band afar, rejoicing in their load
anemic, broken, and growing up anyway when my sister was five, she dictated a letter to me in her strong little voice
while dust drifted in the sunshine
of our creaky old room.
dear me [she said],
barney is the best. i will wear blue all the time even though i'm a girl. my heart beats without me telling it to and that's pretty cool. i think people always feel better if you tell them you love them. i will always smile because i have dimples when i smile.
"did you write it?" she asked, and i told her i did, every word
with the chunky yellow pencil i'd fished out of my school bag.
i handed her the letter, and she folded it up carefully
and she smiled.
when my s
Forever LoyalHe saw her coming out of the deli, she smelled like blood-sick and old wounds hiding under her last pair of clothes that didn't have tears in them. He went to her and introduced himself. She gave him a sausage. It was love.
He followed her for the rest of the day, ears pricked forward as he listened to her talk. It was funny how that made her happy. She would say "Piston, sit." And he would sit, stump where his tail should be wagging as she pet him with pale fingers. When she did that, he knew she wasn't blood-sick, she was food for others who were and they nipped at her like he sometimes nipped at the heels of children when they tried to st