Poetry — Tara's Den

I Ain’t Practicing Perfection

I am perfect

Exactly as intended

Decidedly so

If all is, I am the all that is

I don’t need to practice perfection

I ain’t near it

I am it

The fucked up sum of my parts

Couldn’t derail this equation

The algorithm is all that I want

Wouldn’t matter

If you hated it

Because

I am perfect

Exactly as intended

Decidedly so

Where There is Wind there is Shaping of Wing

Where there is wind

there is shaping of

wings

Where there is fire

there is coarse

friction

Water runs through it all

splitting the wooded pews

Every God like

figure,

all wrapped in Earth

all dawned In wine

Mother is near plying

An unintended

break will meet her soon

She will not count

not a star in the sky

nothing to accomplish

no child to hold

those days long behind,

like the purple spread of

a sunset drown

The wind brought rain today

yesterday, sun

it made for confusion

to none

no insect derailed,

no path unperceived

no one question asked

all answers so clear

“For God put us here!”

cried the worm

“Why?”

asked the minnow

The tree grew roots

strong; that very day

My Soul Sought Yours

My soul sought yours

I, in need of salvation

Your chest, the holy grail

I, in need of rest

I have a need now—may it never go away

Before Bed, a Poem Came

Before bed, a poem came

Decidedly mine

Written, slipped

beneath the silk cover

Unable to close my eyes again,

I dug myself out of the weighted wool

to peak out the window,

To see the summit laying snowside to my sleepless endure

By the Time You Said Hello

By the time you said hello,

I was gone.

Mucking my way through,

a fruit fly not far behind

the narrowing of my eye.

My love held between

a fly mask,

And as I travelled

the moon met me,

over the washed meadow

where weeds sat unplucked.

I turned around knowing

you’d still be there

waiting, wishing my heart was indifferent,

negotiable, shapeless

to the same truth that led me here.

I feared the trail,

the going so alone,

but the alternative felt

like a greater abandoning—

the horseshoe left behind.

Liberation is Subjective

Falconry

Plushing

Untenured

Ladle lipped soft

Hardening felt

Despondant

Taxonomy

Pirouette

Frock

Slips

From my collars

My boned vacancy

Truancy of soul

Abandonment beckoning

Pardoned condoled

Summer

Is

almost here

Yet I am unwarmed by the idea

Wild Berry Zyn

Wild berry Zyn

Because that’s all they had

And that’s fine

I got an aftermath peppermint patty in my pocket

Shit, I’d suck a toe nail dry

If it means I’ll get a buzz

I’ll suck the polish off the pinky

Let the top coat leave and the pink go warped

Like the growth between her legs

I’ll suck that dry too

Take back the juice I bottled

I’ll suck my babies right out of this world

Do them right

I do right by my kids

Let them never see the light

Or the next president

And their saliva dripping combover

Just be bald

It’s brave

Not bold

But brave

Like the man who orders branzino on the bone

Not because he likes it, but because he’s Sicilian

And ain’t about to punk out his people

This wild berry Zyn taste like codeine

Spidering down my system

The fastest way for a drug to hit,

Besides blowing out a vein

And while I prefer the intravenous way