PUZZLE PIECES

People whispered my name
behind their hands.

The clock, meanwhile,
would momentarily grow large,

the blue flowers
on the yellow wallpaper

opening just a crack. 

 
*
 
WHEN ALL ELSE FAILS

Wherever I go,
men are fighting

over women or loot.
The abandoned

write their names
on scraps of paper

and drop them
through the bars

on the windows.
I have the same

sudden feeling
of unease as I had

during previous visits.
The greeter nods

hello and then
resumes applying

her black lipstick.  LS

TO MY SISTER'S RETICENT LOVER

You must be insane.

What more can I say.

To stay silent in the face

of such ravishing looks,

golden locks groomed to perfection

for you, you tongue-tied fool.


***

ORANGES

I slipped, as Freud predicted,

straight into your bed,

stepped barefoot from

my forest of fears,

cold and clear

like beads of orange

and you silently wrapped me

into yourself completely.  LS

- after JBB

Was I ever that at ease
with girls? Able to sit
with hips and shoulders,
heat and jean and flannel?
Or, was I always
a bit sure I was other
with my last winter’s jeans
in spring, my home cut hair.
Or, is it not even about girls,
but more how I never
wanted to be boy
crazy; how I say, even now
as an adult, “He’s a hugger
so sit down.” When did it take
too much time out of my day
to engage in an embrace?
Maybe I’ve always
been an Alice, never able
to decide whether to eat
or drink the one that says
enjoy over the one that says
or not. LS

Love Hills

We scratched the skin of our pasts
and the hills of love erupted.
Pine trees grew on the hill slopes
and their needle leaves were like
the words we used to sew differences.
Our old tears met, inventing an ocean
of future stories and childhood joy.
I once tried to learn needlework
and you Hindi. I could only thread--
you could only swear.
Let’s scratch our hill skins into mountains.
I hope you teach me some needle
magic and how to make the guitar talk,
and we’ll learn a bit more
about the dangers of being loved again. LS