Episode 134 – Potential

Most of us
are one,
even if not
“the one.”

Women bound
for great things.

Maybe 

we should all 
don capes
so the special
is visible.
But then,

isn’t that such 
a man thing to do?
A cape
to announce
him hero,

while women battle 
uncaped and 
unheralded, yet 
no less heroic.

* * *

Everyone dies. Our one truth.

Walking through the graveyard,
stake in hand, we learn lessons
of vampires, of lovers,
hands that kill, hands that cool 
our skin when fevered.

Death is an enemy who sheds his skin
and lies with you, then leaves you 
on your own to raise his evil spawn.

Episode 133 – Showtime

in the end
they’re dust
same as all those
we’ve slayed before

* * *

Reality in chains.

The girl, just a dream.
But she will come,
not leave him
to a life of torture.

(Finger to lip,
dream girl disagrees.)

Almost beaten,
he doesn’t recognize.
Love, lover, kindred,
come to rescue.
The torture was 
thinking she wouldn’t.

Shoulder, he leans.
Strong together.
Not just any girl.
Not just a dream.

This he knows
if nothing else.

Episode 122 – Grave

The yellow crayon
looked like the sun.
She wanted to take it 
inside her body,
color over her fear,
but she pressed too hard
and the crayon broke 
into pieces.
She began to cry.

Her best friend rescued
the sunny segments
and tried to press them
back together.
Her tears made him feel
like he did when his mother
yelled at him.
He hated when his mother
yelled at him.

I’m sorry, he said
to the teacher.
I broke the yellow crayon.

* * *

The girl, now grown,
doesn’t want to hear
that he loves her,
tiny and scared,
ugly and evil.
That he remembers
the yellow crayon.

But his is the only voice
she can hear.
Her rage recedes
as a volcano of sorrow
storms from her eyes.

And he holds her.
Just that.

* * *

When the world returns,
it’s spring,
when flowers reach up
and we crawl from the ground
to follow,

far from wellness, 
but healing,
able to see the beauty
of the blossoms.

And when we least expect it,
our soul returns.

Episode 121 – Two to Go

girl fight 
between friends
both strong
who wins

* * *

A strawberry, ready to pop,
but instead of sweetness,
there is putrefaction,
threatening even friends.

For there are no friends
when love is dead,
only fading moments
when love told her 
she was beautiful.

Then death –
the great eraser.

If darkness disappears, 
she is left with nothing.
Love is dead 
and sorrow squeals
its hatred.

A naked throat 
is vulnerable
to a blade,
to a bullet.

And if the skin bleeds,
the pain escapes,
leaving behind
an empty shell.

Raise your swords, 
if you must.
There is no protection.

Episode 105 – Life Serial

With the ring
of a bell
my day begins.

Work.

Tons of tedious tasks.
Trails of treachery.
Tripping over
my soul
until I’m dead.

Work.

Satisfy the customer
and the cycle ends.
But only until
it begins again.

At night
I try on darkness.
It has whiskey,
blue eyes,
and ears to hear
my sorrows.

Weekends tease
with time to tarry,
but oh so very short.

Work.
Work.
Work.

Episode 104 – Flooded

something intimate
in the fading light.

cigarette butt
under boot heel.

white haired man.

sad girl.

shoulders kiss
on back porch steps.

a grin
only for him.

these are lonely days.

something intimate
in the night.

white haired man.

sad girl.

quiet comfort
in the fading light.