Cocoon

I dealt with my cocoon:
Birthed from the ancient alabaster columns
Of a long lost civilization;
Draped under a star-spangled banner
In a poppy field;
Encompassed by city lights
In every which direction—
Bound by the size of the bills
In my neighbor’s stuffed pockets
And chained,
At the end of every day,
Under a blank name and face.

Yet such a cocoon served me well,
Kept my arms from spanning wide enough
To tug too hard at my heartstrings.
I was situated just right
So that I could pluck them,
To itch that scratch—
Scratch that itch that was fed
Every time I had nothing
To cradle
Or be cradled by.

“Play for me soon,” they cried,
And I would. I’d play anything
To hear the slightest of empty sighs
Escape them,
To feel the faintest skip
Of a heartbeat or two
Disrupt the gentle sway of the room
We stood in.

The transience once fueled me.
It asked to persevere;
It wanted the single instance in time
When a specific note I played
Was a little prettier than the rest
To sit quietly at the bottom
Of an underground box,
Awaiting revival—
A time when my blank name and face
Became beautiful
While I tried my best to explain
The ugliest things
I have ever seen.

I used to deal with my cocoon—
When the claps drove me past the poppies
And the frayed flags on every
All-American wrap-around porch.
I dealt with my cocoon
Until the ugliest things
I had ever seen
Had nothing to say to me anymore.

Duchess Falling

I can’t sleep when the bed sheet fights
Its way back to your side
And you’re not even there
To pull it over you again--
But that cannot keep me
From tiring of the tireless nights
You grant me,
Or the dazed days when I want
Nothing more than to know
Who you are,
Or the dawns that make me smile
With the golden rising orb
You love to hate and
Hate to depend on--
Setting at dusk
When your prideful moon rises;
When I can watch, breaking,
Knowing you will never be
The duchess to rise
When all else goes black,
Or the woman to stand straight
Just because she wants to,
Since you’re no woman to thrive
As a transient nomad,
But the only one I know
Who tells me she can
While laying cradled
In stronger arms.