Morning

I awoke with the sun today,
Blinking slowly in disbelief.
So rare it is, for myself,
To watch it rise from the other side of sleep.
The gray sky erupted slowly into
Vivid blue and gold,
And a single glittering ray descended;
A wish, alighting on my face.
I let it fill me, hopeful, and
With wishing,
Dared to dream awake.

The Whoreflower

My role is clear in the
Virgin, Whore dichotomy.
I stand beneath the red lights
in your mind, waiting.
Stop trying to save me.
And, please, stop trying
to enslave me.
Your words are chains,
And my defiance will shatter them,
As you once shattered me.
A lotus,
Splashed with cyanide.
Fractured in the sanguine illumination;
Yet unbroken.

Summer

In the shining August,
Slick with honest sweat,
I lay, chest heaving, on the floor
And smiled to be alive
In spite of you.

Lost

Someday, I'm going to get lost in a strange city. I'll sleep in public bathrooms, and be reminded of the reasons my father is a hero. Maybe I'll look through dumpsters to find things to sell in a pawn shop. During the day, I'll sit calmly on a park bench, letting the sun restore me, and I'll imagine I'm my mother, sitting in her garden; happy to be alive in a world of sunshine.
My clothes will get ragged, and I'll have to wash my hair in a bus station sink. I'll be hungry, but I'll know how to feed myself. It won't be the first time I couldn't eat. Hopefully I'll have a camera, and hopefully it won't get stolen, and I'll take pictures of neon signs and big, strong men carrying their children on their shoulders. I'll want to call my father, because he's a hero.