Day 40 of #the100dayproject - When I Take Another Form

When I Take Another Form

I am baking in my kitchen,

the heat from the oven pinching

my face into a sourdough loaf.

This day is a type of lynching

where the hot element glows,

a brand that can alter my skin.

Written words are too much

some ingredients are missing

inside of me, inside this body.

I am comprised of fiction

and if proofed and baked

I will turn to stone,

my heart encased

in my body’s prison.

Day 39 of #the100dayproject - Matunuck Beach

Matunuck Beach

Any time I walk towards the ocean

I feel the sand buff and

peel away the layers

of my armor. I want to be raw

from the salt in my wounds

taste the grit in my teeth.

When I lay myself down onto

the beach, my body is a letter

written to the ocean, tucked away

into an envelope of sand,

stamped by a beach towel,

addressed to the tide, sea foam

and conical shells that house

a body of a creature, not unlike myself.

Day 38 of #the100dayproject - Road Work

Road Work

They ripped up the road, but the road was still good.

A long crack had formed a fissure where small tufts

Of grass rooted themselves between the asphalt.

The steel grates, rusted well, held up to every foot,

Tire and storm. The water drains painted sky blue,

The paint peeled and chipping. It grew cracks,

Just like my eyes started to show lines like start bursts.

A sign of experience, the middling age, hints of pain

And gray come subtle, but can still be hidden

as if old age can be tucked away, dyed, stuffed

in a drawer, forgotten until an earthquake sections

a road like how a surgeon cracks open a sternum.

It’s better to bare a white flag of surrender,

Relieve ourselves of our weapons and useless armor.

Day 37 of #the100dayproject - Spring

Spring

The diaphanous lives of plant

and tree, their desires,

their pleasures, mysteries.

Rose, lilac, magnolia, cherry;

they mingle with one another

their cocktails of pollen,

fibers and molecules of sex,

genitalia and fragrance.

Of course it’s all a dance,

a language; the wind

a carriage to give them

speech. Attempt

to reach out, touch

one another, entangle

their branches and bodies

as if they could lift

themselves and be free.

Day 36 of #the100dayproject - Hive

Hive

A paper brown bag stuck in the branches of a tree

                                                                                      Or

Old bark curling off into muslin pearls

                                                                        Maybe

Dead leaves gathered into a bunch, stuck

                             In the intersection of trunk and branch

Instead

The fine walled architecture of a wasp’s nest

                             Blending in with the bark of the tree

The wasp, with its segmented head, drank

                                           From puddles and mud,

Spit its nest into a thin form, paper clay

                             Such craft from its mouth

The entrance to the hive like a gaping hole

                                                            O, surprised

                                                            O, humming

                                                            O, screaming

O, mouth that licks the hole, the buzz, tongue and mandible,

O, chews the meat of the earth, carnivorous