Simply Poetry

Frangible Magnolias

2008-05-05T19:12:00.000-07:00

I was huddling under the tree’s sturdy boughs,
seeking protection from the rain,
when I first saw you.
You, with your wine soul and
virginal limbs, you reached for me.
I tried to caress you,
but you were just out of my grasp. The
water streamed down you, and I wanted
to drink you in. I had no notion that
we were at an impasse.
You screaming for help, me deafly
absorbing your perfume. Haphazardly
I gazed down and saw the decaying
bodies of your kin littering the
bitter gray cement.
Interspersed between you and
what was left of your relations,
the utilitarian dawn of green.
In order for the birth of monotonous summer,
first comes the death of spring.

Ode to my Breasts

2008-05-05T19:05:00.000-07:00

Ten pounds each
of blood, tissue, and
vertebrae separating pain.
Lugging you around everywhere is no joy.

But we’re in this
together, me and you,
we have been for years.
And I’ve never really appreciated you before.

Nearly symmetrical,
my twin moons.
And with the right
support, the best cleavage of all my friends.

My husband’s favorite
toy. I used you
to seduce him.
He now uses you as his nightly down pillow.

Your former tight
burgundy crux is
now a sprawling
metropolis of rosebud veins and leaky ducts.

You are in for
your biggest test yet.
Because when my
son is born, you’re going to be his postpartum umbilical cord.

We’ll be depending
on you to nourish
him. Keep him strong,
help him grow, and I’ll be forever grateful to you.

Toilet Spider

2008-05-05T18:47:00.000-07:00

In the throes
of morning sickness,
what was left of the banana
and creamed wheat
graced my chin
and the off-white rim,
sitting on the
side of the tub
wondering when it
was all going to end,
when I noticed him
or her, making its
home between the
porcelain cistern and
the peeling plaster.
Normally, I’d scream
grab the closest shoe
and put an end to
the eight-legged-freak’s
minuscule existence.
But that day, whether it
was weakness of body
or mind, or both.
I chose to watch. It
jumped from wall to
throne to floor to pipe
building its octagonal
quarters. I wondered where
fly breath got its seemingly
unending energy as
my loving parasite sucked
what was left of mine
away from me. But what I
pondered most was
what bothered me
more. The fact that
there was a spider
behind my toilet, or
that my bathroom
warranted a toilet spider?