The ocean's breeze
wraps me in moist heat
waves crashing
and memories bouncing
off the beach blanket
as I sit with a now fiftyish body
trying to remember the details
of my first steps
along a sandy strip
of land in Southern California
a deep ocean blue
another setting sun as big
as a beach ball
on the horizon
The startling voice of a worried
young mother
Mine
as she picked me up
crying
because
the beckoning waves
in their constant froth and frolic
took me away
from the family picnic
and to the edges of
a sparkling brand new world.
Corpus Christi, July 2005
Stolen Innocence
How many times did
you do it to her?
How did you get her to go
into the car?
What words did you use to
tell her you needed her
to sit there, still
to look the other way
as you sat in
broad Southern California
daylight
in the driveway of
her own home
together
but separated
by the rage she
dared not express
How many seconds or
minutes did it take
for you to unzip
your pants
and pull out
the thing that you
forced her to hold
in her small left hand
until you had had your way
with the little body
she would come to treat
like you treated it
as a thing that would serve and
do what others pleased
a spiritless unfeeling
part in a mechanical land
until you had soiled it
with your putrid essence
until you had
communicated through
the touching
and the pulling
and the raping
of her soul
that her body was not
hers to control
that her feelings were not
hers to express
that her spirit was not
hers to feel
that her confusion was
to become a dream
that you and others like you
would become the source
of a recurring nightmare
that even the daylight would
from then always frighten her
that she better not disobey
that she might as well do nothing
because there no use to saying
NO, anyway
How many times did you do it?
were there times when you were
almost caught?
how many times did you whisper
her name
and watch her stop like
a frightened little squirrel
pretend you were not there
or that she didn't hear her name
how did you figure out when
she could be caught
when she could no longer say no
and she went along
taking the only thing she had
left to fight with
a determined will never to forget
an inner voice that said
my only fight is pretending
this isn't so
I am in the dream world
the nether-world
and someday I will get away
How many times
did you do it
but even more important
is
Why?
Austin, TX 1993
Jailbird Ghosties
Less afraid
less angry
awake
and almost
barely
almost
bored
thinking
where are the ghosts
that like to haunt
in between the sheets
when daylight breaks
and my lids flutter
like a frightened bird’s wings
who came to pick a seed
and sensed in her whole being
a presence
and turned to fly away
The ghosts are
sleeping
or drugged by
the happy leaves
we put in yesterday’s meal
or they only
exist
when I want them to
but that also can’t be true
Steel blade
as long as an inchworm
cutting across a small
tender hand
one cut to a child’s
suffocating spirit
left her wondering
would anyone ever
hear her cry?
Today
the scar is but
a reminder of a long gone
past
a longing to find
that small hand
who is today a sweet
and friendly ghost
Dulce espantito
You are vieja
old
and you are young
you are in a purgatory
I jailed you in with
my confused and guilty heart
Forget the past
and the blood and the dirtiness
of his sex on your innocent
hand
Your wound is almost healed
come out and use that hand
to reclaim your life
I shall describe you
and love you
and clothe you
in glitter and stardust fragments
of playful thought
No need for fear
I won’t leave you in there again
Baby ghost of mine
I feel this morning
as a sweet breath of memory
on my cheek
