moon over adobe- El Rancho, NM

i am ready

i have been unable to hear her voice
ever since that CD spun
in your house
high upon the wall in your living room
next to the Diego Rivera painting
white calla lilies
meant for a bride
or for a child

a gift designed to make me complacent

taking more
from where I had
none to give at all

the lilies
deliberately painted in shadows
encased in vases
protected from all but the water
meant to nurture them

roots were not an option
plucked from the earth
no choice
but to be cut and looked upon
for a day or two
before yellow invaded the edges of their leaves

judged by their whiteness
brown splotches etched out with razor blades
or scissors
whole flowers tossed aside
songs about pancakes
and maple syrup
and happy faces
elegies to homelessness
and emptiness
and hope

all i see is a stranger in the mirror
barely rising off the floor most mornings
soap scum
and upside down flip-flops
strewn on the floor
sand and empty bottles
reminding me suddenly
of what i was trying to forget