Grammie Gladys

My grandmother was a mermaid.
Mythical, the way
she came home each day
covered in glittering scales.

She was afraid of the sea,
spoke of visions,
said one of us would die under water,
but never would say who for fear
of making it come true.

In the factory she took a knife
to her sardine cousins
and saved her fingers.

In the end, stripped of mystery,
she lolled in her bed,
a fish out of water.
Her teeth on the night table,
wet pearls
from the soft shell of her mouth.

Candy

He calls himself Candy Liquor.
Whether it's a "q" or a "ck" is hard to figure.
Either way, he's on the stage
reading a poem so full of filth
all we can do is giggle.
This tells you
the kind of people we are.

I want you sweet and sour
as the words spilling from the mouth
of this shameless man.
I want you
quick in the bloodstream,
sticky on my fingers.
Everyone knows you're no good for me.

Candy Liquor finishes
with a flourish, shouting:
Here I come to save the day!

As if doing that
ever saved anything.

To the Man on the Street

I have not been
fine
for quite some time.

How This Blog Began

Here's the story.

Flight, Alternate Ending 3

You said I had a mouth
like a baby bird's.
You wanted
a bird in the hand,
or under it.
I was not innocent.
It must have been something else
that cracked, bleeding through
your slippery fingers.
Wings beat inside me.
My heart kept time
in its shell.

Flight, Alternate Ending 2

Flight

You said I had a mouth
like a baby bird's.
You wanted
a bird in the hand,
or under it.
I was not innocent.
It must have been something else
that cracked, bleeding through
your slippery fingers.
Wings beat inside me.
A tiny egg nested
in my chest.

Flight, Alternate Ending

I wasn't happy with the last line of the poem I posted last time. I've been trying to figure out something better. Here is one possibility, but I still don't think it's quite right:

Flight

You said I had a mouth
like a baby bird's.
You wanted
a bird in the hand,
or under it.
I was not innocent.
It must have been something else
that cracked, bleeding through
your slippery fingers.
Wings beat inside me.
My heart rested
in its nest.