Party Girls

 

She's a #2 lead pencil

dependable and rigid

never marking outside

the lines she clings to

sober conformity and

clear-headed restraint

where temperance and

razor sharp edges keep

her sheltered & serene.

 

I'm a brilliant red crayon, vivacious and wild, as I thrust and penetrate weak margins

in the puritanical gray world of her dinner parties. Offended by my brutal sarcasm

and dazzling wit, drinks are quietly watered down and my car keys are seized and

held hostage. I am invincible as I gulp the dregs from empty glasses and ignore the

anxious whispers-retaliation a sexy grind on the lap of a horrified guest. The

ritualized apology will come with a tearful phone call when I sober up and offer

another hollow promise of redemption. Jagged scars and tainted secrets soothed

as I'm forgiven [again) in a baptismal purity that can only be accomplished through

prayer and the knowledge that she was once like me.

 

 

Inconsistent and scattered

worn down to a melting nub

     an excessive ardent spirit

         trapped within an empty vessel

alone until happy hour.

                                                 Susan Labuhn

 

Requiem

I watch in fascinated horror as the bones become more pronounced through

your skin

m

   e

      l

         t

            i

               n

                  g

body on crisp white bed sheets in a room that reeks of pine sol, urine and bleach

your fate decided by suits who sit poolside sipping mojitos in the sun while you

die – as scavengers circle hospital hallways whispering about the “nature” of

your illness.

Prada draped relatives dive in to consume your reputation, your essence

p

   r

      i

         v

            a

               c

                  y

signs do not apply to them as they take possession of your assets, no children of

your own “too busy making money, and acting queer” they hiss behind your

back – the i.v. bites into unwilling flesh and you dream of sage prairie, sugar tea

and butter scones.

A beige crumpled nurse adjusts the morphine drip while you drift

d

   o

      w

         n

            s

               t

                  r

                     e  

                        a

                           m

to a prairie graveyard where the bones of our people have rested for generations

acceptance not determined by bank accounts or HIV status you rise on pure

winds – the claiming of bones left behind in the distant firelight and the circle of