What do
you say we
get out of here?
Let’s take this
side-glance and
run with it
We’ll go beyond
the city limits,
as far west and
north as we can go
Chasing that
idyllic place,
that feeling
Circle each
other in the sand,
Swim the first
swim of summer
in a warm creek
by the beach
as the sun
winks the day
goodbye
We will dine
on mussels
and wine
and kiss
a salty kiss
on the street
Sand in
our shoes,
Strangers upon
first glance, but
past life lovers
perhaps
Your mouth,
your teeth,
drive me
to flee
Tag: Poetry
Big Red Sky
Instead of the moon
there’s a big red sky
Where there was mystery
There is nothing to hide
Who brought me to town,
was it you?
I’m forever asking
the sky for the
truth
Spring Back to Life
He shoves me down
with his words and truth
which only provides
the opportune moment
to Spring Back to Life!
Watch me karate
chop my problems
Hear me wail
and then
go silent
The Body Does Not Lie
My mind’s eye
is up-in-arms
over this leg
of the journey
She wants to
move ahead already
and foot the bill for
a place in the country
No longer can
she stomach town
Rocks
Days off
these days
are for
chores and
reflection and
gathering crystals
in my palms and
toes and
begging them
to take away
the angst
Fantasy
I am a lover
in dreams
a wife
later on
a mother
hypothetically
an idea
forever
always
always
always
available to
be a girlfriend
good for a
flatter
a flirt
when I’m not
being a brick wall
I am of my own creation
You reap just what you sew
I am a fantasy
good for only
brief periods
of a man’s day
outliving the
otherwoman’s
demands
I live
in the space
before sleeping
in the stolen time
after dinner when
your wife
is cleaning up
I live in your
dusty roads
lined with roses
and sunset light
I am an idea
an adventure
I show up
on mountain-tops
when you’ve fallen
behind the group
and feel
that someone’s
there with you,
that’s me
You think,
I know who
would like this place
You give me that.
Off-Track III
Days off
these days
are for
carefully scanning
my body for signs
of life
desperately scanning
my mind
unraveling
the truth
of my friends
crying to the
moon for help
having a hard time
holding my head
up high
folding in,
caving in
to the noodles
of blankets on
my bed
letting go
watching
my hopes
take flight
like a
balloon
in the
wind
Off-Track II
Days off
these days
are for
longing,
skipping,
long walk walking
poetry
bars for breakfast
potatoes and eggs
kicking stones
friends like squirrels
and birds
and gnomes
homes where nobody’s home
but working and I’m thinking
have fun in there
whisper-staring through the
front window at a dusty dining
room table, at the tall burgundy
taper candles still
in their wrappers
wicks never been lit
Days off are for judging
watching my feet on the
concrete
pine needles, the straws
from convenient store cups
the occasional cigarette butt
and I’d be lying if I left out
that I still, out of habit,
hope for a
long one
poor
trash
girl
Days off are too hot,
pleasant when they’re rainy
optimistic or full-of-shit
Quiet
Loud
I regulate
the sound
Days off are liquid
coffee grounds in
the wastebasket
and why do they
make those things white?
Days off are songs
on the radio that make
me say man I wish
I could wail like that
Days off are
long and
mysterious
these days
Off-Track
Days off
these days
are for
longing
skipping
long walk walking
poetry
bars for breakfast
potatoes and eggs for supper
remembering Grandma Faith
and how it was she who said ‘supper’
loving great-grandmother but hating the
word supper because of all the dirt, red air,
evil stares, soggy tomatoes, oily cups of coffee
and greasy pianos that were my childhood with her
No, I’m Good!
I am only
weeping,
screaming,
and calling
to humor you!
I do not despise
the world and
all those
within it.
I do not fear
that insanity
is upon me,
not really.
I do not pace
my space and
tug at my hair
for fear that I
will never again
be rightfully loved.
I did not go from
over-the-moon
to bottom-of-the-sea
all because of three
little words you never
said to me.
Your absence did not
tail-spin me into isolation,
fear, and fool.
I am perfectly capable
and hopeful!
You had nothing
to do with my head
ballooning to the sky
and getting gnarled in the trees.
You are not the reason
I see Lucifer in the face
of all those around me.
You did not tap a place
inside of me that only
knows rage and sadness.
You did not remind
me of how little I am
loved, of how unlovable
I am.
You did not!
TERAH RACHELLE VAN DUSEN 