the demon he carried was larger than him
he was unaware but I saw it
and I was just a little girl
this man who smelled of cigars and aging skin
barely spoke, but he had all the baby dolls lined up
and I’m sure he touched them all
including me, innocent and small
this man who crept in with the shadows
when he thought I was asleep, didn’t have a clue
I could turn into a statue and not make a peep
this man was naught, this man who was a creep.
let my eyes stay here and play awhile
before you go away. let me marvel at how
your light shifts shape, your amber haze so
addicting. let my eyes stay here and
play awhile, before you fly right out the
door. leaving your golden smile, your aura,
your everything – helpless on the floor
had a dream that I was playing the violin last night.
their scrolls were bobbing in the ice, the vapor was
freezing on the strings.
made me want to reach for my rosin,
but instead I felt your hand pulling me
out of my dream.
hear the static voices screaming, SHEILA!
cry out as the spirits jump on top of me,
causing me to fly much like her blossoms
that blew in our yard last night.
the flowers looked like paper mâché hearts,
the white and pink on them torn.
much like my far-gone heart, beaten and worn.
watched the wind make them scatter and I’m
wondering how I let myself even
care that they mattered.
slight man with a red beard and mane
kept hollering
“the waves aren’t even that big at all, let’s go!”
she, the color of dark espresso
stood playfully at the shore
her hands gleaming and airy
she let the water splash at her knees
he walked out of the water
she won
I want to tell you a story about a girl and the sea
but no matter how I begin it
I end up talking about him and me
and I’m brought back to that February day
where it ended – my time spent alone with him
and yet he cries cause he misses it
and every harmonic makes me think of death
how he punched until I had no breath left
and how much energy it took to whimper the word
STOP
I’d rather talk about how I held my breath watching
you disappear into the waves
talk about how you plucked the ivory treasures from the floor
those endless sandy walks finding the sea glass you adore
marvel that you really are so brave
instead of feeling like he’s marching me to my grave
I want to tell you a story about a girl and the sea
but no matter how I begin it
I always end up talking about him and me
The Tape House 