#sumspoetry

[ablindingcalltoprayer]

My Greatest Fear

What if one day I wake up

on my 41st birthday

to an alarm I hate to hear

next to a husband I don't love

and have to go to a job 

I don't enjoy

with coworkers who don't

care

and a boss that is indifferent

and I have to file numbers I don't need to know

for years and

years

and years

with dead dreams and

a dead hobby

and dead friends. What if I 

have a dead romance and not enough

love for the too many kids

I accidentally had and what if

all this pain, 

heartache, and hard work

aren't even worth it in the end 

and I die too late and I live 

in misery.

[ablindingcalltoprayer]

150 East Hartsdale Avenue

  Dear Hartsdale,

When I’m lost I think of you.

Your vegan café and dog cemetery

I remember walking through your neighborhoods

on a rainy day.

Admiring the antique houses with jungle-like landscaping, and

the wonderful buzzing of fireflies

with their bright yellow speckles against the road.

I want to visit the Italian bakery again,

Pick up a bagel at the deli- then stop to watch the train pull in.

Let’s go to the farmers market then play Lego Indiana Jones,

or Halo 2, or Spiderman Monopoly

or anything to get away

from this Hell and back into your welcoming arms.

[ablindingcalltoprayer]

I want to know what makes you involuntarily smile

I wanna know what drink you always order

I wanna know your funny username you used when you were twelve

I want to know what grinds your gears

I wanna know what annoys you

Arouses you

What makes you nervous?

I want to know what makes you fall in love

I want to know who has made you cry

And why

And where

And how

I want to know your obsession as a child

I want to watch you grow up

I want to watch you grow old

I wanna know why you do that

I wanna know why you say that

I want to know what makes you laugh

What makes you scared

What makes you bleed

I want to get to know you.

[ablindingcalltoprayer]

Interventions and Lullabies

You know me,

or you think you do.

Don’t tell me when it’s coming.

Don’t.

I just wanna see it for myself.

That’s where I once belonged,

but I’m gone.

I swear I’m long gone.

You’d rather watch me drown,

then see your hands get wet.

‘Cause after all, we’re all we’ve got,

and tension speaks.

You don’t hold me like you used to,

and your eyes look like they’ve seen too much.

So if I fail,

well then I fail,

but I gave it a shot.

So please,

just leave!

You don’t mean that much to me.

I’ll help you out the door, but

once you’re gone I just stare out the window.

And all the days,

they fade away.

And all the nights

they’ve never felt the same.

I’m cursed by all ambitious thoughts, so

open your eyes and let me in!

I swore to God that I’d never swear,

and we all fall down.

We all fall down again.

[ablindingcalltoprayer]

Why I Do It

A smile instantly beams across my face. I cautiously peel off the tape and lift open the plastic flap. A bit of dust poofs away from the pages as I carefully pull the book out of the sleeve. I lean back against my worn red chair and it creaks just a bit. I put the liner aside and examine the cover. Each color flies off the paper. I can almost taste the red, green, and blue that pop out of proportion. The detail put into each face makes me cringe— but in a good way. The big blocky title draws my eyes; “The Uncanny X-Men,” it reads. I finally open to the first fragile page. And although the action presented is twenty years old, I can’t help but turn page after page. Each flip and flick of the papers only adds to the intensity. I can hear Cyclops cry for help. I can feel the razor sharp adamantium claws of Wolverine stab into my side, just as each villain does. The stench of sweat and blood isn’t really there, but somehow it manages to find its way through my nose and lingers with me until I turn the back cover. I look at the tacky advertisement, put the book gently back in the sleeve, and put it away to wait until next time.

[ablindingcalltoprayer]

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE INANIMATE OBJECT?

I could say something profound

like scissors, to break

or tape, to mend.

an oven, to burn.

or a pen, to create…

but I just really like my iPod

[ablindingcalltoprayer]

Longing

I want to be the most spontaneous person alive. I want love. I want praise. I hope for small dreams. I wish that I could tell everybody how I really feel, please let me reveal what I am actually thinking. I hope for peaceful nights and chaotic mornings. I want everyone to be the same. I wish on stars and flowers for more time to think. I wish for more flaws—and less specificity. I long for the cadence of a silver half moon. I hope for death. I hunger for life. I pray that I continue to dream.

[ablindingcalltoprayer]

I Don't Write About Nature

The stars are not stars. How boring to think of giant masses of burning whatever. I like to think they aren’t giant at all. They are tiny, and smaller than they look. Only with the advanced magnifying qualities of our eyes can we even see them. Each one a memory. Speaking a bit of dialogue as you zoom in on it with your telescopic mind. Maybe I’ll forget a few, they shed a single tear and try to fade away—but cant. They stay, thinking, “will she remember?”           I don’t remember. But they stay, still. Reminding everyone of their own forgotten moments.