My Moon

October 14

MY MOON

I anticipate the crowning of your face as you birth the sky.  Your rhythmic visitation sates me.  The gravity of my need keeps you close.  The tide of my heart pulls you from shore to shore.  We live in the sweet ecstasy of tethered love, our souls slingshotting across the open palm of heaven.  Your empathy for me transforms these shards of ice to a tender heart… satelliting.  I orbit you empowered by your kindness.  You are my moon.

Paint your face and print your profile.

*

Fair Fish

Tiny thoughts ping pong around my head

hoping to win a goldfish,

but what do I need with a five dollar fish?

How often do I pay too dearly,

for what is merely an animated ornament?

When I falter in self-esteem

I look to decorate my life through hostage taking

and other unfair practices.

I know I want to feel safe,

know that hiding gives the illusion of that.

It’s like the joke told about banging sticks

to keep the tigers away.

Does it work?  Yes, of course

as long as you are in a place with no tigers.

I can distract myself,

but I can not distract life;

life goes on and takes me with it, no matter my disguise.

Given this I can either spend my time

with a blindfold and a cigarette waiting for the end

or walk the midway and go ride the tilt-a-whirl.

You are reading selections from Sober on the Way to Sane and More Lines From My Life by Sherrie Theriault

http://www.amazon.com/Sober-On-The-Way-Sane/dp/1440417342/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576888&sr=8-1&keywords=sober+on+the+way+to+sane

http://www.amazon.com/More-Lines-From-My-Life/dp/1448677203/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1388576956&sr=8-1&keywords=More+Lines+From+My+Life

My Moon

October 14

MY MOON

I anticipate the crowning of your face as you birth the sky.  Your rhythmic visitation sates me.  The gravity of my need keeps you close.  The tide of my heart pulls you from shore to shore.  We live in the sweet ecstasy of tethered love, our souls slingshotting across the open palm of heaven.  Your empathy for me transforms these shards of ice to a tender heart… satelliting.  I orbit you empowered by your kindness.  You are my moon.

Paint your face and print your profile.

*

Fair Fish

Tiny thoughts ping pong around my head

hoping to win a goldfish,

but what do I need with a five dollar fish?

How often do I pay too dearly,

for what is merely an animated ornament?

When I falter in self-esteem

I look to decorate my life through hostage taking

and other unfair practices.

I know I want to feel safe,

know that hiding gives the illusion of that.

It’s like the joke told about banging sticks

to keep the tigers away.

Does it work?  Yes, of course

as long as you are in a place with no tigers.

I can distract myself,

but I can not distract life;

life goes on and takes me with it, no matter my disguise.

Given this I can either spend my time

with a blindfold and a cigarette waiting for the end

or walk the midway and go ride the tilt-a-whirl.

The Twelfth of April

December 3

The Twelfth of April

When I met you, you were a power tagged and trapped in a box. A tiger caught by its toe and yet I could do nothing but fall under the spell of your roar. The suppressed growl you leave for me like an invitation I could never decline. I write to you a note of explanation; words testifying to my desire, which I promise to hold back out of respect for you. And a wish to survive my drive toward you and your furious stripes and claws. Your bite which I long to feel, yet know I must not ask for. When I inquire if you have read, you say with sanguine smile, “Read it to me.” When I am done and with tear stained face, all you reply is, “I have lost my taste for anyone but you.”

Keep an ear out for more than danger

*

GOOD SAMARITAN PIE

The meal prepared from my cognition,
The bread and jam of humility, salad of expectation,
Roast of determination and Good Samaritan pie
Wait on the table to be devoured.

The courses pass and come desert, my kindly intentions.
Are cut to wedges and pushed from setting to setting.
I can dollop after dollop cover the requisite desires
Of this tart in attempt to deny my addiction to fixing
Or I can serve up the plain truth.

I help and help, and wander down roads looking
For lost puppies to return to their homes.
I must admit my longing to lend support
Is sometimes half-baked and if kept to home and hearth
It might serve me better and make a sweeter dish.

Assistance is best in proportion to the meal
I must live my life and save my Good Samaritan pie till last.