we burned our tongue on hot pavements
in a parking lot, at three pm, ninety degrees outside
i wished that it would burn your taste off
so, i wouldn’t feel it
i tried to cut my lips off
the traitorous pair
betraying my every wish to stop and run away
my hands need a sawdust bath
my legs could be fine sitting miles away from here
on a boat to antarctica
anywhere from here, this body
this mind
this guilt
anywhere would be perfectly suitable
for a shameless girl like me
Maybe for kicks, we’ll dance for ourselves.
Around the kitchen, while waiting for the pasta water to boil
For laughs, we’ll sing karaoke to “Build Me Up Buttercup”.
And maybe tonight, we’ll watch the fireflies in the yard and laugh when my dog tries to eat one.
in three days, I’ll look back on this evening
Sitting in a lonely dorm room
And pray that someone would come and take me back to that moment.
They
Shake a fist to the sky
Spit on the grave of a saint
Roll their eyes at the tomfoolery of church bells and altar boys
Blame the institution
Blame the higher power
Use the Lord’s name in vain- but don’t allow His name settle on the top of their tongues
I
Am religiously unreligious, but I fall far from the fallacy
Of violence and shame and general unpleasantness
I say, Let the people have their bread and wine
I’ll sit in the back having mine
Our minds may work differently
And our prayers may go to different ears
But we bleed the same
And live in the cemetery
Of flesh, blood and a pumping heart
in the palace newly reared
beat it to dust and clay.
silent hammers of decay,
other hammers, muffled hammers.
i’m like a dog curing of rabies
let me die! let me wither!
be not rash with thy heart.
Two blue lines.
My heart was racing as I checked the test again.
Two. Blue. Lines.
One little head, poking out of the white blanket.
Six letters, S-H-E-L-L-Y. On the gift box label, left on my doorstep,
A gift for the baby, read my neighbor’s scrawly handwriting.
Two syllables, Mama, was Shelly’s first word.
Fifteen books, I bragged to the moms around me.
Fifteen books and counting, on Shelly’s bookshelf.
I told them Shelly was made for great things.
Three months, the oncologist told us.
Three more months to the end of my daughter’s short life.
Three more months till the evil growing in her head would take over our lives, and end it.
Four candles on the cake. My daughter blew them out, ignoring the dull pain in her head.
10:18 PM, time of death.
2014-2018. Here lies Shelly.
This poem was featured on Kentucky Arts Council’s Facebook page to celebrate Kentucky Writer’s Day. Check it out!
Me without an idea
An idea without a thought
A thought without a brain
A brain without a human
A human without a home
A home without a fireplace
A fireplace without wood
Wood without trees
Trees without plants
Plants without the sun
The sun without the day
The day without night
The night without stars
The stars without a sky
A sky without clouds
Clouds without rain
Rain without grass
Grass without cows
Cows without milk
Milk without cats
A cat without a dog
A dog without bones
Bones without a body
A body without a home
A home with me
And me with no time.
-Zoya
The king sat on the table for a breakfast he liked most,
he ordered scramled eggs and ham with cherry jam on toast.
He also ordered six cakes to see what the baker bakes,
Then he added chocolate sauce and gave a little pause.
He walked to the garden wth the sun shining on his face,
But coz of the amount he ate, slowly weakened his pace.
Alas! He tripped and fell in a hole,
and as he hit his head he thought of food more and more!
“Said the solders to his men ‘lets go near the river’,
The war was on, blood was shed and masses would shiver,
To Mekong they went, tired they sat,
In the water went a lantern all lit,
It bobbed and swayed and dipped along,
It reminded the men of a beautiful song,
They thought of the days gone by,
When the mothers wail and the children cry,
War brings pain and misery all around,
Let the peace and happiness of this world abound.”
From A Diary To The Cloud 