Upon this altar I place
the sweet honeysuckle of those ponytail days, truth or dare behind the neighbor’s shed, the color of your hair that lies somewhere between sweet honey and the blazing butter of fall leaves burning through that railroad and graffiti town. I give you this freight train of hysterical despair carrying us to pregnant too young and married to hard-fisted men. I place my closed heart next to your silent misery. Take my blindness and guilt and all those cold days kissing boys who tasted like cigarettes. Let’s waft the scent of lavender and fresh linens, listen for the sounds of our babies laughing on the rusty swing set, the dirty lake lapping at their tiny toes. Pay homage to the way you could whip up dinner with crumbs from empty cabinets, the food stamps long gone for the month. Popsicles and sprinklers, the sound of storms creeping in like cloaked men in the night. The taste of lemon drops and whiskey tongues, sound of quarters dropping down deep, pool balls clinking like bullets loading into the chamber of a 9mm. Heap together the damp carpet and the quicksilver bugs, the mice shuffling through the silverware drawer, that tiny, useless, crooked air conditioner, and the back porch that nobody ever used. I place my heart pounding with so much fear. I place the home that raised my sister to learn not to want to live. Take these mud pies on Plexiglas as an offering. Let’s pray together to the gods of old folding chairs and appreciate how they scrape the concrete floor of the church basement and the way they leave permanent marks on my heart.
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Who am I?I’m a systems engineer and creative coach living in ABQ, NM. I believe that we can intentionally design our lives to align with our deepest dreams and desires. Archives
January 2023
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