Warmer

Entering the intersection chamber,
sound departs at the door frame.
Red warmth sets in, a few smiles,
and time trickles down to tea.

Triangular package of leafy life,
my sweetly chosen composition
whispers the story of a haunting-
the oh so reminiscent sort...

Familiar even in a fresh space,
unwise birds flock and chirp,
swinging their rocking-chair wings.
I am flustered into a fading act.

In this fair parlor, whose shades
almost make up for its shadows,
I sip away my sorrows
to the tune of a dreamer.

Fastened to stillness
but soaring within.


Jennifer Burnside

Turning Point

Love led us here to a place of silence.

Segmented by fears, our split souls

cry out; acutely aware

of one another's absence.

 

Woeful phrases of spontaneity

provide an upheaval

substantial enough to

awaken autumn's weary soil.

 

As we strain to fulfill the

demands of unscheduled affection,

we make questionable works of art

from our disheveled pasts.

 

Curdled desire induces cruel

shrieks of fuming despair,

severing chords, voicing ideas,

biting conviction.

 

We weave away from the echoes

of long-lost battles, encircling

the body of respect and strangling

it to death with a vengeance.

 

Feigning peace, we maintain

our secret perspectives, yet

linked deep below the surface,

we use the same set of eyes.

 

We have carried for centuries

our sacred sentimental charms;

thus flattening ourselves

beneath a flimsy finish,

 

we display the varied flaws of

so much contrived forgiveness.

Subtle bruises stain our minds

as we bend the day in two.

 

 

 

 

Jennifer Burnside

 

 

You

You are the place between my mind's eye and the vision that blinks back at me from the outside.

You are the thin film of tears that smooth sight soft enough to see.

You are the feeling of anticipation that lurches my heart into a dozen directions when voice trebles bass in perfect balance.

You are the reminder that my heart still beats and that the wind breathes stories somewhere distant in the night...in dreams and stars and so close between the lines of two combined palms.

You are the coolest part of any sentence, the warmth of sweet tea, and the shadow of smoke against an evening wall.

You are the best part of my life, and yet by far the most puzzling, for you represent illusion and reality mixed together like paint in a bucket just before the colors attempt last minute to resist the swirl.



You are ever-present but half-way unattainable.

You are somewhere distant when pressed close to me, yet ever my heart's destination.

You are out there listening to others' thoughts on the radio while your own play through the safety of insulated headphones that fit the shape of your head only.

You are in presence the sensation of completion and in absence a flicker of longing.

You are singing the sun to rise with your own beaming humor and lowering the moon into a well of despair when the inky black agony of too many memories has you tormented beyond compare.

You are lifting my spirit like nobody's business whenever you say my name, and even if I didn't have a name, I know you would still call out to me, deep in the night.



You are undercover and over the rise of your self-made entity.

You are a shape-shifting wonder ahead of the clock and always on top of the latest news.

You are making things happen and pulling strings; ripping the curtains open to tear the light in, one shred at a time.

You are always knowing when to pull back just before the truth leaks out from your darting eyes- a safe glance in advance of intrusion.

You are always giving reason to love despite the moment.

You are sighing through the cracks of my life and tripping up the rhythm of time even as it ticks, on, and on, and then some...



You and the moon in combination remain the prime ingredients of my world, transforming space and gravity one wispy sweet heart-wave at a time.

You soar flighty like a bird, but oh how I wish you could land.


Jennifer Burnside