| Mayra J. Martin USA SWEPT Dust blows through and settles on my shoulder while we're having brunch. The kids can't sit. Still- you stare over thick glasses. I immediately know your wish. And so I speak- your disapproval as my own. We've been going over this routine for so long. There is no need for words. Between us I can hear your silence You stand over me with empty plate at hand. I give from mine the scraps. They're not enough for you. That's enough for me. I brush off the dust. As you turn to go. Leaving behind a trail of ashes for me to sweep under the carpet. © Copyright 5/22/00, Mayra J. Martin I HEARD I heard you say- "I love you". "I love you" Over muffled screams Over the neighbor's kids While playing ball Over the cat's howl At dinner time Over the boiling water At the stove I heard you say- "I love you". I looked up. I looked around. I looked back. There- you were- collecting dust. © Copyright 5/22/00, Mayra J. Martin Past Me A sense of nothingness glitters before me- black and blue as the morning rises above and I duck so the sun won't burn me. Today I have gone over the usual routines that I follow to keep normalcy as if there was anything else but routines. A primal scream from the apartment below me startles the deaf A child crying for a mother talks of the simple yearning to be. I find myself in the same spot of ashes surrounded by wax. I have been burning alive for a touch but there's nobody here consistently. You make your plans to fly I keep the fort held down with a paper weight. Everything is moving so fast even the bugs. I hear them scream. My echo shatters the ceiling. I'm tired of moving in circles rather than forward. I'm tired of being the strongest - alone. I rather hold you close as you storm. - Past me. © Copyright 5/24/00, Mayra J. Martin
© All Copyright, Mayra J. Martin. |