Triple Haiku

Sun Haiku

See Sun set herself

on the uniVerse; see her

drip orgasmic hues!

Earth Haiku

Earth, does your cracked skin

ache when the dew kisses your

hardened raisin flesh?

Moon Haiku

Oh ashen Oyster

drawing tides and blood from your

hollow skin: Arise!

Had You Been Born in Greece

Had you been born in Greece

and not Switzerland,

you could have been called Helen.

Your name could have meant Torch,

entwining you with Venus,

and love would have flowed from you

like your golden hair,

shedding passion and light

on entire empires.

Had you not been abducted

by the murky hands of marriage

been handcuffed to the Zeusian myth--

had you not sailed away on the sea,

(you see,

had you chosen not to leave)

we could have danced on water,

we could have launched ships

we could have swayed hips.

Sun Haiku

The Sun sets her Self
on the uniVerse; See her
drip orgasmic hues!

My Simple Prayer

My simple prayer is this:

that I will be a source of
Life to others,

that I will bring Hope
to my neighbors,

that I will inspire the
Light in another,

and that I will love
deeply and honestly,
always
and without reserve.

Thunder Thighs

I am enthralled by Thunder,
how boldly and
boisterously she announces
her own coming,
her hot hungry
breath igniting the
sky in a
carnival
of electric ecstasy!

Thunder thighs, I grin
while slowly
and unapologetically
licking the salt
off my fingers,
which have been greedily
groping
the inside of the
second
potato chip bag that now
lies empty in my lap.

Sunlight

The sun drew me out to work in my garden and yard most of the day. I do not feel lonely when I am near to the earth. Most of the otherwise obnoxious sounds of my city street are drowned out in my communion with the earth, my ears tuned to the thudding soul of the soil. Maddie seems to understand this; as I am busy at my humble monk's work, she lies sprawled in the cold damp dirt content that her domain and all that abide in it are united, or she pants in the sun with an exquisite grin.

Placing my life in the rungs of the truest rickety ladder I've ever seen, I cut branch after branch with my meager pruning sheers; my plants need a channel of sunshine, and the recent rain produced growth in the wrong places. Something small and shy cringes with each clip, but each falling twiggy branch possesses a small relief, an exhale, a loss. I am familiar with the sharp inhale of preparation before a limb is pruned, followed by the dull ache from an open wound that knows and wants the sun.

Climbing down safely- my feet thank and honor the earth for her firmness- I am pleased to see that my work has not been in vain: a beam of sun pours through the now scraggly and naked tree onto my runty shaded Japanese fern. Welcome, I say to the light, which has honored my invitation.

Ghost

No one prepares a four year old,
tip-toeing back to her bed in the cold night,
to see a ghost--
a looming shadow at the end of the hall,
a draped sheet with two darkened circles
for eye holes,
a trick-or-treat costume: not allowed
in her home, for fear
of the devil.

No one knew,
or cared,
that the the devil had already
come upon her,
laughing heartily, and not at night.
He had been her best friend, her brother.
At four, she had already played with the devil
during daylight.

***

She gathered the ghost in her arms,
cloaked herself in its shadow,
carried it back to bed and,
in the secret of the dark night,
begged to know its white innocence.