The Angel on My Wall
January 24, 2009
The angel on my wall is a lot younger than me
Her wings are a lot larger than mine
She never ages and wears no clothing, revealing nothing; innocent
Beauty
She knows everything about me (everything) light, dark
She keeps it to herself (I really like that about her); really
The angel on my wall greets me when I wake
Watches over me in sleep
Over the years I have changed (I hate that); think
She has not, why does she not change?
The angel on my wall
I would redecorate –
except (she knows to much)
bkmackenzie
copyright 2009
Widowed Sisters: Thoughts from the Bread Box
January 21, 2009
Always, you bring me your thoughts
thinking I did not have any of my own
And always, I take them from you, gently
placing them in a box
beside the kitchen stove,
a bread box like the one mother promised to me
when I married,
but you claimed it to be your own
That is where I keep them, there, in the box
wrapped in cellophane,
plain see through cellophane;
not that green color they sell on TV-
I do not know if I believe
all they say about it, like its ability to prevent
wrinkles on your fruits. No, I do not believe that
After you leave
I turn off the kitchen light
and go off to bed, next to an goose down pillow
that used to keep me up all night
snoring,
the cat sleeps there now
The next morning I awake
to coffee and to apple yogurt; apple yogurt that I
spread on a slice of your thoughts
presented the night before
Tasting them for the first time
I realize why I missed
you so when you married
and left home
so many years ago – with the bread box
bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2009
Mississippi Raining
January 18, 2009
standing in front of the mirror
I watched as words
fell from a crack in the side of my head -
words that smelt
like a warm Mississippi summer rain
running slow – towards hot
like reading Faulkner
in the shower
bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2009
A Marriage of Hemispheres
January 14, 2009
we come from separate hemispheres
you and I,
I viewing the world as diluted watercolor
you a ledger in balance –
out of balance is where we find commitment
meeting congenially under sheets of a finer texture
you marking as payment of debt incurred
I as a stain on canvass
still the world revolves;
uncaring
bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2009
Stolen Sins
January 13, 2009
Who stole my sins?
Black and round
My dear friends,
Often called upon
Who took my lies?
With need appeared
Saving me from which I feared
Long and long not knowing why
Where is my sin, where is my lie?
Who took my shadows?
Where I hid
Beneath the stones
Of solemn shame-
Who was it?
That could call a name
Known only to my darkest self
Retracted in the light of truth
Latent in a dying worth
Why not pleasure in untruths
To tell?
Who was paused to save me from
My hell? Created joyfully
By my own accord
Who was this prophet?
Who was this Lord?
Now with truth
My life takes stand
Sin unable to sell its need
No matter how or
With cause the plea
Who stole my sins?
The lust I trod
Who is this saint?
Who is this ………..God?
bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2009
