by

Hope in Dreaming

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , ,

Claudia24 / Pixabay

Beneath my hands your small breasts are the upturned bellies of breathing, fallen sparrows”
-Leonard Cohen

Let the night magnify.

Touch me again, & help me sleep.
I don’t care about jewels,  I want your breath

on my neck, pearls of desire,

the golden thoughts of your eyes.

I fall asleep with the thought of your hands

as my deliverance & pleasure

& in my vision

I see you, come against you,

Body arched,

Blissful repose.

-Heather Lenz
Feb 2016

by

Stuck Here

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , ,

No beauty & I am tired of you, your voice. Yelling, then nice, then yelling. No poem could express the impact

Of all these years; our child, confused & trying
to be a man.

I despise you for your hate, which in turn makes
me hate you. That is not my nature.

I want to kick the sky down & see a flurry of
sparrows, crows, seagulls. I want them to gather me

& lift me away, far from your voice or your reach.

-Heather Lenz Feb 2015

by

So I Thought

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , , ,

 

Bonnybbx / Pixabay

 

So I Thought

All years of would-be, could’ve been love-
All of them behind me, some residue of
A dream at the bottom of an abandoned
Wishing Well,

weeds consuming the landscape.
Some shadow of a girl dancing
with light in her eyes.

And you keep treading water, and I keep
sinking downward, never knowing

what to expect in
such dark waves.

I look for coral reefs and
see my reflection in some
old mirror, cracked by time and pressure.

I see I am no Siren, even though my hair
is red and my skin fair, even though

I thought I had enough songs to last me
a lifetime.

-Heather Lenz
January 14, 2016

by

Resolution

Categories: Journal, Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Resolution

I’m going to be a bitch. Serious. I’m done with sensitivity. Open arms. Helping others when I sit here broken and sick. I’m going to be a selfish speck. A cheerleader for my own opinions and needs. I’m not going to ask people how they are, unless they ask first. And then whatever they say I’ll respond with “it could be worse” (because that’s an ignorant and insensitive thing to say).

I’m going to take a lover and require his total devotion (at least sexually). I’m going to be reckless but not in a violent or conspicuous way. I’m going to fucking smile even though my teeth are imperfect. I’m going to go out dancing again when my back allows and I’ll dance all fucking night- even on tables and I may even flash my scarred little breasts. Suck this, Motherfuckers.

I’m going to call people out on their bullshit, rather than hold it in and let it produce another panic attack. I’m going to say outright: “You know what? You’re really an obvious asshole! You should wear your underwear on your head, because all that comes out of it is SHIT and offensive noise!” Then an argument will ensue probably but that’s okay because I’m going to get someone to build me a Waldenish portable cabin that I can take anywhere when it gets so thick you need to wear boots.

And music! Man, I’m going to play it often and LOUD. From Sinatra to Eminem to Pavarotti, motherfuckers! And I’ll even spit out some Waylon Jennings in the inner city! Hah!

I give myself full permission this year to go crazy and be somewhat satisfied. No more moving along the edges of MY OWN LIFE! You got that? It’s MY life! So go suck an egg or if you’re nice (like truly nice, not the fake nice) fill out an application to be my lover or just buy me a double-shot mocha.

Happy Damn New Year

-Heather Lenz

 

 

 

 

 

 

by

Rain & Hail

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

 

Unsplash / Pixabay

 

Rain & Hail

It’s pelting against my window- I can’t sleep.
The birds left scars of beauty in sunlight-
I watched them feed & thought of you- your
final flight or descent. And, I know where that
place is- that which holds so much terror you
dare not breathe. Where you are afraid of your
own reflection & the expectations of a world that
knows so little of your soul. The seeds you planted.

The costume you wore for days on end. The way you
smiled while hugging a tree & from what I was told
you’d never raise your voice. You didn’t know your
rarity or heroism. Somewhere down the line after

you tried to settle back in, it all got so clouded &
I did not know you so I could not reach you. But, I
know your kind, am your kind, would have loved you
frequently & with assurance. And my heart collapses

to see your eyes in your father’s eyes & the heart
in him torn asunder, that I can do little about.

I wrote a poem that was inspired by your father’s
love, you know. Just as I am writing this while I hurt
in ways that not be named or openly
discussed. This is what makes me wish you alive

even more- to know that you felt that bad & I,
by some miracle of a god I’m very pissed off at,
might have found you & helped you make the
shadows, moonbeams, birds or
whatever was your favorite country song to sing…
rise up & call us in-  then dance the pain away.

I am sorry for our kind-  for various warriors.

Every great heart that turns inward. Every
thought or tear that rises within the morning
of rain and hail, is filled with you & your father

as he slowly gets out of bed & sees your eyes in his-

then echoes his cries in the shock of you gone.

& the blue skies of
seldom summers, that you

fought so hard to defend.

~Heather Lenz
Dec. 2015

in loving memory and respect for E.D.

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