(mogray)

ONe night it hit me – not that I do things for appearances -but that I want to see things a certain way. I have a picture of my life. In my picture I am energetic and cheerful and the house is clean. It is dreadfully hard on me when life doesn’t match the picture.

And I’m thinkin’ I let you sleep in the house.

I always think I’m not a good visualzier, but it is that I have no way to communicate the vision, to get the image out of my body.

structure. fwindow boxes

I do not know you well
enough to say
I want you to come
home,
but I do

lately I have been
experiencing my heart
as a pulled muscle
in spasm
though I scold myself
that heart is somewhere
else,
lower down, buried
deep under the breast.
It’s odd not knowing
where your heart is.
A situation full-breasted
women suffer from more
than others.

There is a place in
my back, deep under
the scapula that has
been in pain for years.
to varying degrees
more endurable some days
than others.
I remember when I first
put the word spasm to the feeling in
my flesh.
That flinched to the
slightest touch.

you lhave walked me
into the garden of
remembering who I am
I am remembering everything

I used to call that part
of my back my need ya
when I was a young wife
because it was where I
always needed to be held
the place my fear lived
after I saw scarey movies
and could not sleep
with my back exposed
fearing knives ripping
a image of stabbing
stalking me
I think this must have
been the place my mother
hit me, although I didn’t
remember ever being hit
but my cousin jOHn said
she did, and even his
word being what it is
I believe him.
some time when we came
inside from wher3ever
we had been,
my early puberty
made everyone tink
i was up to something
I didn’t even knp0w
existed.

(I am afraid to go and hurrrying to pack my bags)

I come home from
pancha karma
with a little bottle
of something called
deep love,
it’s supposed to
open ;your heart
chakra,
I take it three times
a day, 10 drops on the tongue

the way I see it
the knot in my back
is working its way
though the front of
my body, putting itself
in a position I can
work on myself
some days I sit at
my desk pressing it
until I am nearly in

they don’t say back
me up for nothing

the acupuncturist said
this was my heart chakra
but that was before
the pain came

that was the time
when my life began
to break me a stick
snapped over someone’s
knee, until I was
so pieces I coucl
not re-assemble myself
as I had been.

I want to go to one
of those sports injury
places and get it fixed

you have walked me
into the garden
of remembering who
I am.
I call old friends
to reminisce
old beaus on their
birthday, which
proves to be a mistake

I wish the woman who
irons Chagall’s shirts
would come take care
of me
I like to iron,
don’t get me wrong
but sometimes I
just can’t get to it.