la cicatriz

La Cicatriz

Oppression never shows

her teeth before she gnaws your last

decade away. See how your trust drips

from clever fangs finding your aorta of youth.

Her shovels are the Earth’s pencil scratching

        m e   t a l             on           m i n e   r a l,

rewriting crust you can’t see from space

but still, she has man by the throat.

If you drew me, draw me as close as I to you—

I would dimple press into the flesh

of ground. Make me a crater,

I’m your depression.

A low shadow from a

rainless cloud overhead, constant—

friend.

Dry eyes wash everything We

but wind ruminates and you find

 new ways to blow kisses

of kicks and scratch out my ears

with the manipulation of innocence.

These dust floods are my dear

Pegasus losing his footing. We’re

hoofing it,

these souls of mine.

Dig in, dig in, dig in—

Move some earth around

and all that inward diggin’ leaves scars

no one sees. Found my worth in writing

la cicatriz. 

MAGIC LANTERN MAGAZINE - SPRING 2014 Issue

Magic Lantern Magazine - click to see recently published work

Image from MAGIC LANTERN : http://magiclanternmag.wordpress.com/2014/04/22/spring2014/

The Great Ray That Got Away

The Great Ray That Got Away

Only you and the fish are smiling. The salmon

since he got away, today and grandpa,

you got some good looks before the final splash.

I've heard the story so many times—

skunk trips to the sea, early

to bed, to rise, sounds wise

until I’m five hours off shore, still broke,

fishing for kings with my jack-

of-all-trades Great Grandpa Ray.

Though, we've never been salmon fishing before

but I continue to look like you. Arms

extended, still posing for pictures

from a childhood never taken, stolen

memories— with your cigars hooked in cartilage,

lines set for cancer, me reeling as fast

as I could to grow big enough for the boat

so dad and you would pack me in the cooler.

I was awake then, listening and dreaming,

when men were rising with the dawn

and this son only a man long after

your sun set; Grandpa you were

this great. My Great Grandpa Ray gone,

only pretend trips to take to the big lake,

Dad’s done you proud and whenever

there’s a skunk in the boat

after trolling for too long, five more minutes, I’ll

think at least you didn't miss this—

We miss you, the one that got away. No

he wasn't as big as your tales,

you were this big and got away too soon. 

"Big Fish" mixed media art by: Thomas Massey

To My New Nephew, Ryker David Sutherland

Dear Ryker,

Your Dad and Mom love you

but they’re the first of many hearts

that you can rely on for love. I’m yours

too, a number two, too

and unlike your sister, no tutus

will I impose on you. Not that

there’s anything wrong with that breezy

freedom. Take your time

you’re commando Ryker

for the first few years—

no one will complain

when you decide that heavy diaper

simply holding you back from sprawling

crawling and too soon walking before

we know it. You know you’re

a number one, too? So special

David’s in the middle of that Ryker

Sutherland name, you’re the first

Son of Sutherland from David and Peg’s

Clan of men, strong-willed, Scot-Irish

who unconditionally have been raising

roses to cushion your childhood.

These ladies, three gems, your friends

so close they’re your family,

they’re your cousins

they’re beautiful, brilliant, and bold

they’re Olivia, Aurora, and Amira 

and you will be their sword, yes

you will be the man. Welcome

Ryker David Sutherland

to your Sutherland Clan.

Sans Peur my brother,

my nephew,

my new boy in blue.    

Without fear…Sans Peur

but oh how they’ll fear you.