Yielding

At night, a woman sits by a window
with shadows in hand to cast upon
the beautiful. A man stands on a dark
bridge, waiting for them to tattoo his soul.
Baring each others questions they collide
as shades of the sky change from blazing
to calm. Searching for the pattern of damage,
they arrive at an answer; faces reform
with the decades and people patch over
their secrets. Dazed, they strum their hearts
and leap.

Night Flying

(For Grandma)
Evenings breath grazes the mountain.
Time leaves, death stalks the moon.
From above, heavy souls watch
Grandma's eyes crash into mine,
burning holes in my heart.
I want to cry to her, but the owl
cannot hear. I want to sing to her,
but the dove will not speak.

Deidre Grotbo

Needles

Weaving nights I count the threads
of my needle. Cream forms in my
coffee. A siren screams for attention
outside my window. Ruins I see.
People's faces clench with pain.
Lights skimmed in the alleyway.
Improbable that they will come in
time. I smudged the glass with my
face pressed. People yelling for help
intending that they will be heard.
Humming fills my ears so loud I
can't breath. But my eyes are fused
to the outside. Absurd jester I make
by just sitting here? My eyes fill with
salty water. They sting their cuts. Sorry.

Deidre Grotbo

A Cry to Grandma

A maze of hallways leads me to a room.
Where melted faces stare, from a memory of a dream.
I hear a whisper, "You don't have to enter."
Shaking, I walk in, see white.
Death surrounds me. When I look at her body,
my heart shatters, and I cry.
I leave to see my mom crying.
outside the hospital room.
A numbness takes over my body.
I shut my eyes and see the dream,
her head wrapped in red stained bandages of white.
The beginning of the heartless zone I am entering.
I let no feelings exit, enter.
I leave the hospital, stop crying.
My mom is pale, white.
We get in the car, enclosed. I push for more room.
As we traveled through town, the dream
keeps crawling in my mind, her broken body.
We lean over the table, my mind far from my body.
People speak to me, and I enter
life again. Speak up, I can't see. My dream
is still on her. I see my cousins crying
in the hallway, strong men weak, waiting by a hospital room.
I move my chair closer to the wall that is white.
The suit they picked is blue and white.
She looks like she is sleeping in her body,
but she is gone. We left the funeral room,
my dad too afraid to enter.
As we drive in the car, I watch my mom crying.
Mom tells me to remember her like this in my dreams.
The people seated neatly in rows is a like a dream.
People dressed in black and white,
stand to say a prayer. Everyone is crying.
I feel out of control, out of my body.
We lay roses, one for each grandchild, on her casket as it entered
the hearse. So many roses there is no more room
The dream of the hearse drives away as the sky starts to cry.
White flowers surround the church. In the basement room
nobody talks as I enter.

Deidre Grotbo

Vacant

Satan visited today, a mind empty
is his playground. He moved through
my veins to the heart, beating faster
with every word he licked my wounds.
You are right innocent child,
a burden. I created a monster,
a being like no other. Chanting
away in the middle of darkness,
sobbing.
Take away the pain, devil, I beg of you.
Pray to me child? No, night should
fade, rising light will be bestrode
across me.
When the sun hits you, I′ll still
be there, watching you, twirling
in your memory, a workshop
of my deeds. You conceived me.

Deidre Grotbo