The Painter

infinite stretch
I reach
 rub green through   Nature
trees on my
    color of our lungs
on rainy afternoons
    a lush world
blooms slow
like a    Lotus
I wait
     planet of mud
 hands     outstretched
      to the blue
it pours
are greener
     lost nights
I write
     places with
pumpkin purple
  blood orange
      smeared ink
I erase
  blood blue
  on      page
        when the pen
   I bleed     out


Spring Cleaning

 on my summer dress
 washed a thousand times
 the brown spot, which is supposed to be
 white and pure like the rose I gave my mother
 the tile floors are red and I am an off-white egg
 my yolk drips onto your head
 your laugh fills the walls
 we are in a cave
 is forgiveness,
 is hope, is surrender,
 my mother took the petals
and turned them red just like her lips
how remembering that always was
moment of being sucked dry
i scrubbed for days
i am white