Saturday, February 28, 2015

To Cheat Death



The Morguefile



In my dreams
we cheat death

pulling toes backward
just in time

announcing lists
to empty air.

There are things to be said
though not the time to say them,

instead, they crowd my heart
take up small rooms.

We sort through them
and hope that is enough.



copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015


Two friends died unexpectedly this week.  I am a bit lost in it right now.

Posted for Dverse





Sunday, February 15, 2015

The Cost of Love




the morguefile




i scrape with serrated edges,
the endometriosis 
of love's stain,

it's bruising
quietly purpling
the edges of my eyes.

i fathom its ache
in cycles of days
lost.

when i stop counting
will it be time again
to lift the knife?



copyright/all tights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015

Not sure where this came from exactly. Perhaps, a post Valentine's Day sigh--

Posted today for Poets United Pantry




Thursday, February 12, 2015

Love at 19






wikimedia commons
 Stylized rendering of a cross-section of the Human Immunodeficiency Virus.
Los Alamos National Laboratory
In the Public Domain in the United States





i seldom think about you now,
the burn
extinguished
in a box of parliaments long ago.

your fingers stained
with the dye
of his hair
in some alley

brilliantine
on black.

so many colors
there before i closed
my eyes to you
or was it you to me?

when it took you down,
that disease we didn't have a name for--
not then,

i sat on your bed
and fed you ensure
and told you about the
daughter i was pregnant with,
the one you wanted.

you died that night.
i saw the blinking light,
a message on a piece of tape.
but i knew
when i saw the light.

did i tell you
that i loved you then
i think i did.

i still do.


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015

for Kerry's Challenge at Real Toads


Saturday, February 7, 2015

The Uninvited




morguefile
dreamy glass by marlene dietrich
by Arien




windows tells stories,
sometimes ones
you wish you could hide.

they breathe,
insinuating themselves
into forms uninvited

forming agreements
between the inside and outside of me
until i wonder which is which.

copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015


Posted this rainy morning for Poets United Pantry


Sunday, February 1, 2015

The Weaving of Lives



the morgue file



1.

i knit a blanket
out of old merino,
bits tied
ends tucked
needles clacking
over time.

i find myself
in their rhythm,
pulling through
until i am warm again.

2.

there is no there
between us,
only a voided space
held together
by bits of string
left over
from other projects
found in baskets
underneath my bed.

i had thought
them to be of no use,
but edges unravel,
and i cannot help it.
repairs are inevitable.

3

the bits of us
scattered
across beds,
our lives
a pastiche
displayed.


copyright/all rights reserved AudreyHowitt 2015

posted for Poets United



Tuesday, January 20, 2015

59 and Counting


wikimedia commons
Death of the Grave Digger
Carlos Schwabe
in the public domain in the United States




i look for bits of me
under beds
in drawers.

dust bunnies run amok.

there was a time
i knew who i was,
it was clear.

on tuesdays
i taught.

on sundays
i slept in,
held your love between my teeth
and inhaled
your scent off my pillow.

fifty nine.
i say it
over and over.

it feels old.

maybe it is.

i look for the youth
i left
stubbornly clinging
to boxes of lace,
afraid to let myself go.

if i opened
the lid just once
would i know myself
in the things
i placed in there
so long ago. . .

fifty nine
years, losing bits of me
i would cry
but i can't find that part of me.


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015

Posted for Real Toads

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

The Wave of Breath




wikimedia commons


Nasa. Bob Cahalan

This Landsat 7 image of clouds off the Chilean coast near the Juan Fernandez Islands (also known as the Robinson Crusoe Islands) on September 15, 1999, shows a unique pattern called a "von Kármán vortex street." This pattern has long been studied in the laboratory, where the vortices are created by oil flowing past a cylindrical obstacle, making a string of vortices only several tens of centimeters long. Study of this classic "flow past a circular cylinder" has been very important in the understanding of laminar and turbulent fluid flow that controls a wide variety of phenomena, from the lift under an aircraft wing to Earth's weather.










Endings 
confound me
in their ability to make themselves known
in morning hours filled with light,
in dreams 
which foretell
those truths 
blithely overlooked
during day's cognizance.

In dreams, I learn
to ride the wave of breath
to its natural end,
a replenishment 
of that interior landscape
so ready to receive.

So too,
today's end
wrapping itself around a calendar date
which marches forward
regardless of intent.

I breathe.


copyright/all rights reserved Audrey Howitt 2015