Never Loved

Can you say that you actually loved him

With all those men that you’re rolling through,

Those comments you’re posting on the internet,

The unprecedented shade you’re throwing,

Blasting on him to whoever who will listen?

Good girl gone bad my bootylicious ass,

You were that way right from the start.

The way that you carry yourself tells me different,

You never really loved him to begin with.

 

 

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The Willow of Richmond Street

In the spreading willow branches

I find myself swinging into the clouds,

Grabbing onto it’s long, tendrils and spiraling myself

                   Down,

                                                                    Down,

          Down,

                                         Down.

Leaving those budding branches of life

Reaching into open air and crashing onto the ground

Sending uprooted dirt into the air

Like a less flashy Fourth of July

Splintering, pushing and breaking all the objects

That came in between the reestablished relationship

That I and the earth had rekindled.

Such was the death of the 43 year old Willow tree

That my father planted upon attaining this house.

Scene #2: Guangdong Province

I wonder what she felt

When she was dragged out

Of the family house

Into the dense jungle behind it

The aching, hot sun above her

 

I wonder if she heard

The rumors before the

Rovers came rolling into the village

 

The odd language

That the translator was using

 

I wonder if she could smell

The fear, confusion and hope

In the sweat rolling

Off her mother’s body

Mixing into the wet soil

 

I wonder if she could see

What happened next

Her neighbor stepping out

Into that hot midday sun

Into merciless gunfire

 

I wonder if she could taste

The screams of her village

The blood and flames in the air

As it was annihilated

And the others could only

Cower and pray in horror

To Buddha or Confucius

Hoping that that the jungle

Would provide itself a friend

From their invaders

 

I wonder what she understood

I wonder what it did to her

I wonder how it affected her

Afterall,

My PoPo was only 6 years old

Waves of Misery

The waves of misery come towards me in waves

I stand on the shoreline, watching them go in and out

Some days the waves come, only barely soaking

The tips of my toes and the edges of my sole

Other days it comes rushing into me

Splashing roughly against my legs, soaking my torso

Today, the tide has come in slowly

Creeping, seeping into my clothes

Rising higher and higher up my body

Until it went over my head, enveloping me

Yes, drowning even now as it’s over my head

That’s how mesmerized and traumatized I am

By the waves that have taken you away from me

Scene #1

“Is there anything else,” he said gruffly,

“Anything else that I should know?”

Looking deep into my eyes

Those green eyes I had loved

“Shawn and I,” tearfully I said

“I know,” he said and in that instant

I regretted that this curt, analytical,

Forceful man, was exactly

What I had asked for- what I wanted.