Tag Archives: poems

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You Love It

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

 

yell

How words chosen precisely to wreak maximum damage ticked like a bomb in your head, but exploded in your heart hours later, leaving you scarred and changed.”

~ Justina Chen, from North of Beautiful

You Love It

When I’m down &
can’t seem to find
my way around,

When I lean on you
for who else is there,
& you laugh & entangle
your will through my hair

& it’s no crown of daisies
but it’s a really good lie,
To cover up the reasons
I break down & cry

With this weight like a chain
pulling me tight,
& I lose my ground
& I give up the fight

So long ago you claimed
no one really cared,
That they’d all turn away
so I could leave if I dared.

In prayer I sought help
& called out in the night,
But no one responded
so I guess you were right.

& I know how you love
to see my world broken,
& the way that I bleed
from things that were spoken

Now quiet I walk
down the hall & shut the door…
I never bother to call
or search any more.

-Heather Lenz

2015

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in the pink

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , ,

Starring PINK

 

in the pink

flesh in a plastic cup. let pink petals fall forever.
the machines tick & click like wayward clocks-
every woman
reeks of fear.

here in a flowery robe, i gaze at magazine covers-
the women with full breasts smile in their youth.
others dress casually, assured in their poses

that all the recipes in the pages
will fill up your every desire & win over
lover & guest.

they don’t know who is looking at them.
who envies them enough to want to spit
at the calm fake candles glowing with
spa-like radiance.

glow. images on the machine glow.
i watch the blacks & whites move
as the magic wand
presses against me.

they are like ghosts & phantoms
dancing together. laughing crazily
from too much excitement.

now at home it’s raining. past 2 a.m.
i am tender & obscure.

i wish there were a friend to call.
i wish my family knew me well.

i wish i could feel the hard weight
of a good man linger

in all this tenderness.

-Heather Lenz

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Eclipse

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

 

Untitled“It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.”
-Frederick Douglass

Eclipse

His bruised eye
like the moon gone dark
on a night when nothing
sees the truth except the
heart inside of him, like a
cobwebbed corner of secrets.

During an eclipse, the light
slowly returns. But not for him,
nor his eye that will yellow like
the sun & fade back into an
apparently normal day.

When I saw him near the
railroad track, so small & fragile,
standing in the grass, his lower
lip hanging down like a cloud
somewhere near oblivious adults,
I drew in a breath of shock,
touched his cheek & asked what
happened.

He looked up at me with big round
eyes that cried out: The moonlight
is never returning.

-Heather Lenz

October 2015

This poem was published in Issue 1 of BAD ACID LABS INC.

 

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Awakening

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

Unsplash / Pixabay

Awakening

You said something about flowers.
Apparently a man stood in your way.

There was a desk with no paper or pen.
You wore a lavender sweater & prayed
for light.

At night, terror pulled you
from sleep. A shadow standing over you.
A rosary swung from a bird’s beak.

You crawled out your window, hoping
to catch dust from the last falling star.
You breathed in the scent of Moonflower
from your vision.

Everything became holy & scattered.

Your hands trembled, petals crushed
in your palms.

At dawn, you found yourself
sitting in a Redwood forest,
Imprints of faerie wings
on your arms.

Eyes becoming one
with a nearby stream…

~Heather Lenz

This poem was published in Issue 1 of BAD ACID LABORATORIES INC.

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Goodbye Soldiers

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

At the wire

Plastic army men, gray, blue, green
Lined up in the living room for years.

When his father wondered
At the lack of my complaint over the mess,
I said: “Because one day I know I’ll miss it.”

That day has come & gone.
I imagine the little boy next door,

who my son gave up his collection to,
Lining them up along windowsills & on top
of old shoe-boxes.

One time, years ago, I designed an army fort for my son
out of an old shoe-box. Drew carefully the camouflage
to protect his childhood, to construct smiles.

I made windows
& gun racks & even a helipad on top,
meant for plastic emergencies.

His eyes lit up like sunshine
Reflecting off dark waves & he said:
“Thank you, mama. That’s really cool!”

I must say, it was one of my finer

accomplishments in life-

& now as the years turn & frown with their
Sad mistakes & losses, at least I can recall

Through some certain, tender, beautiful years,
I gave those soldiers a home. Or tried.

~Heather Lenz
May 31, 2013

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