Unarmored

10 pale, half anxiously chewed
Half raw and dried, smell of raspberries
They have been trained to save a life
But fix this, no

I loosen them from hopeless endless endeavors
So I can feel the prominent beating hump
There in the crease of my breast
Where I pulse, unarmored and open

I refuse to hide my smile
Or sacrifice my peace of mind
Nor, shall I deem it worthy for you to do the same
Me, Myself, and I,
Take pleasure in today's breathtaking sunset

I feel, see, hear, have…
Each day, grateful
For everyone I have loved
For every tired hand I've held
For each exchange of bliss and sorrow
For every moment of ecstasy and disappointment
For every betrayal and loyalty
For every imperfection—for in those wrinkly lines
I have found, love for all
...for me

Susie E.

Omnipotent Pimp

Whoa, back up Mister
Or would you prefer I ask, “Pretty Please?”
With my bottom lip sticking out?
Don’t expect to find me strewn and pouting all about your laces
Loosely hanging from your vapid shoes
There is not enough bitter salt or rusty nails
Adam’s Eve, ‘Bating-the-Master’
Best played out while you console your limp ego
To all you disillusioned boys, praying to find something alabaster and malleable
Dreaming of sticking and squishing it between your tongue and the roof of your mouth
Its tough skin and red fiber making a sweet and grainy resin
But don’t forget—something you can protect
Making daddy proud as you detach from your mother’s hip
To give me your last name and seed
With a womb for which to carry it
Like this makes me biologically incapable of actually enjoying a good fuck
Heh, well now that’s a calling to save my soul
All us pussy-cats and paper dolls causing you to salivate and lust
They’ll try to sit my dirty ass in a velvet pew, kind of kinky don’t ya think?
Listening to a man drone on about my proper submission
What? To you? Ha!
Shnookums, I thought you liked it when I was on top?
“But not past this patriarchical line,” some of them bock!
As they circle signs and petitions declaring my body a lawsuit
How dare we carry such a natural power
And if it was just one night, would you just call me a fornicating slut
Healing your self-respect as if I was in need of some special humbling
Or, if I said, “No!” Sit begging while prescribing me a tease
Could I then be your wife?
For example, Deuteronomy 21, 11-14

11: And seest among the captives a beautiful woman, and hast a desire unto her, that thou wouldest have her to thy wife

12: Then thou shalt bring her home to thine house, and she shall shave her head, and pare her nails;

13: And she shall put the raiment of her captivity from off her, and shall remain in thine house, and bewail her father and her mother a full month: and after that thou shalt go in unto her, and be her husband, and she shall be thy wife.

14: And it shall be, if thou have no delight in her, then thou shalt let her go whither she will; but thou shalt not sell her at all for money, thou shalt not make merchandise of her, because thou hast humbled her.

Well, let me give you a Revelation, particularly

14:3—And they sung as it were a new song before the throne, and before the four beasts, and the elders: and no man could learn that song but the hundred and forty and four thousand, which were redeemed from the earth.

14:4—These are they which were not defiled with women; for they are virgins. These are they which follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth. These were redeemed from among men, being the firstfruits unto God and to the Lamb

God, your hero, the Man’s man
Staking me his “Bride,”
Oops, stole your trophy
In this gorgeous white lace and gown
Honey, sugar, baby, I dare you to make this fruit my fault
Trying to mold me into something that makes you more comfortable
As if I was a syrup tart, satiating only to your saliva
Put that damn chain away, I am not an extension of you
HE couldn’t handle that, could you?

Susie E.

A Devious Innocent

Were I to peer out of those green and sometimes bluish spheres, could I still sing?
All along, the crow’s purple feather crookedly pointed
But never toward any glimmer or stream of warm sun
Yes, you have seen this grin
Indeed, I am well aware of my place behind these pores, bent teeth, and smirk
Childish runaway that is me, do not mistake my integrity nor my deeds
Summing me up to a 9 x 3
Selfless, please, any mention of my intention
None is above your shun and tease
And so, my shining steel and silver plate, or so you say
How dare I not recognize your saving grace when I am but on my knees
Here, within the round dents of clay and grey moon moaning for its blessed birth
I beg you to make sense of this?
Newly painted nails tirelessly chipping away, expecting me not to hurt
While misconstruing my very words only to have them shoved down my throat and choked up for tonight
I never meant to let you down, nor color those pupils sandalwood
Always, I promise, I loved you every inch of the way down while crossing the waist line and belt
What a shameless, pathetic thief
Tell me what I should think of myself…a bitch?
Better yet, why not just call me a slut
Tossing and braiding my hair into perfect pigtails, “Smile but never feel.”
If not animosity, then I am at a loss and finally put these two hands together
Pray tell me, “What then?”
My pulse has slowed and my mind numbed as you keep demanding,
“What did you expect from borrowing MY clown!”
Betrayed hero, I never meant to disappoint you nor thought I could
And you were right, I am hurting
Though, not by whom your crystal ball had formerly predicted
Silly girl was I…

Susie E.

Resign Yourself to the Risk

I stand in awe at the end, thankful I can hurt! Yes. Thank this biological mystery that allows for the bitter twang of vulnerability; as were I to close its door, what would life offer? The passion I posses for all that encompass my existence has filled my body with joy and my days hope. Indeed, I have a need to share love. If this human condition exposes me to the possibility of pain from unreciprocating adoration, only then to be left alone and betrayed, then so be it! Emphatically I resign myself to the risk, gladly fling myself upon it. Fore, I have laughed a million times since.

--Susie E.

Stitching a Tailored Dress to Suite Soul

Wicking a honeyed background through my finger-tips
Licking its lambent flickering air
Shameless digging for that mood
Trying to get that slight slit in this smile
Coming to terms that my teeth are not the color thought of as bone
But I'm told it's genuine
Though I know stitched to skin freckled with perfect ivory hues—
Warmed and at times removed
Noticing the stone has finally been smoothed and found adrift
Underscored with a mask that tirelessly draws
Nonetheless, finding I am prone and susceptible
So I hold it gently in my hands—
My within and vulnerable core
Praying for it to root and blend itself with my soul—
"Guard me from becoming concrete,
Keep my feet soiled with summer and dust,
Dancing ballet in rolled up jeans and belly button free"
If only at the end to keep one inspired verse
To paint it in grey and eggshell
I think of this as the street's lamppost rhythmically puts aflame that atmosphere
Like fireflies at dusk by their pond
mmmm—the hunt pours out with ambient glows about this room
Living, if only a moment, in this unguarded tailored dress

--Susie E.
6.13.2008

My Bare Soles

If it had been yesterday
I would have been but an imagination
But that night, my flesh fashioned to the humidity
As the crickets hummed their low vibration
And the moon's evil grin stirred the tips of my nerves,
For air they begged

—breathe—

To what term do you know best?
You didn't directly ask, but emphatically I acquiesce
What had been last year my pelvis twisted to erase
Her favorite song, long forgotten guilt
Indeed, I sung as my curves lifted from the deep indentions of cotton
Let me go—and, so, my stomach stretched and back bent
While fingers dripped the salt from mesh and skin

The morning hint tip toed across the floor
Hinges hollowed out a shallow squeak
My state of mind held me through tomorrow's half luminescence
As I kicked off my shoes to feel the dirty pavement spin under my toes—
and soiled it did—my bare soles

And what summer could it be, without that one night only?
My heart finding content with life's complexity
Another chapter, by chance, I scratch down on blue lines and type
With my beloved friend—
Who twirled under the same warm bright night
While mellow tunes danced between tin walls and leather
To embrace choice, laughter, and to enjoy what it is
This is "last-year's" lesson—gracefully mastered
And if I could choose, nothing I would change

Susie E.

New Day

I felt smooth cotton wrinkle under my toes
Slinking and tangling between peach and bone
While watching yellow slip through slits blurring lines into waves
Weaving a warm ocean and all its little specs or creatures
Exquisitely dulling all geometric shapes
Interrupting, but invited none-the-less
Swung past favors served on a broken plate
Yawn and stretch,
How I wish I had a frame for those turning points and gold ribbons
Soft, sable, poof, bouncing, licking my fingers, begging—pick up that round stringy thing
So here's to the next day, no longer dreaming to live,
And…to those who dare to brave dirty hands

-Susie
5.28.2008

The Simple Beauty in those Three Little Dots

I remember, the trees as they blurred in lines,
With the telephone poles, as my hair snuck out the split of the car window
Or, the moths as they lifted from the lawn around that beige skirt

Simple atmosphere only comes with the energy this requires
But just like those trees, that memory—1 second laced with my chest's forgetting

That salty taste I licked from my lips
The night rain sung on the window, as the sun moaned in its ancient chair
I know this vague tip on my tongue keeps me pulsating
Trying as I do, to write this next line—
All the beauty that it could be
I leave it with those three dots
Each finger, one by one—relaxing as they should have long before
To let be what 'let' means—whether my understanding comes or escapes
Those words will never make contrast with this page
Nor find their place …

-Susie
4/18/2008

The River that Swallowed the Bind

Took you
Eyes placed inch by inch a mission stubbornly circled
Around that white column, it spun
What is left, only that river keeps
Somewhere, as I write now, a silver stone shapes with the tide
This makes sense

I recall, many, many years ago
Before that café was known
In my own handwriting, I asked
For a dreamer to dream
Never had I believed it was my wish
To have ridden with him on that wave, but I did
I shall sleep no longer with, nor see that yawn
It was another’s reality, it wasn’t mine, but it was
A distant ach owning my steel, rapping my trust, with those image perfect hands
I do not remember—but the words, that time—I always will

What that river sows, will remain hidden beneath the sand
Through the thousands of summer’s yellow ovals that drift upon its surface
As it was, it is, always, will be there, long after you or I leave
This makes sense

One can not rewrite what was crafted
For they were made, they are what can not be taken back…
But perhaps, retold—well, gather that red ink and your imagination
Author of the one on a quest to find the adventure of themselves
While sacrificing the very path
Soon, might he discover, that an elevator isn’t a door, nor I his enemy
But certainly not his friend

A year ago, I stuffed your bandana into my drawer—this I intentionally kept
To remember a boy I once imagined sitting next to his tired unlaced boots
By the bend in the river, an apple core and a peanut butter jar
With his arms tugging in his legs, ankles crossed, cheek resting on his knee
Wrapping me in the blanket he found, before the creek knew of you or I

I ripped up everything else, sometimes I regret that
But those tares manifests what has become
That boy, did I ever know? Existence goes without, as did I

Peace I now have, with trust I struggle
As surreal as it seems, as different as I am
Even though I cannot remember, our awkward past
I guess the river keeps not everything
To me, this makes sense—the story that was us

Susie

The Blindfold is for Justice, Not Justifying

Black threads woven through a seam
Two holes in-between without the option to speak
Paired with two squares and 10 even spokes
Once containing a soul, now an enabler of death
With their master, they enter a tomb
Granting only one wish: You were never here
Their laugh can bounce off the stone and make the roots vibrate
And their hands flirting with all the textures of a cave
Their breath engulfing and collapsing without a mist

What is a witness without a hint of evidence?
When those who sniff believe their ears,
They are the allies, who rally by their master’s side,
Listening to them recount alibis of character and grace
Refusing to toy with a match as if their hearing were made out of bright sunshine
Denying that an expert has the wisdom to communicate
Playing checkers with no red pieces, but competing anyway
Never noticing the lady with the blindfold can no longer balance her cones
Who cares when all stand to gain the right to judge and dance on Broadway for their 15 minutes of fame?
Never believing their fortune is doomed the same

Justifying their ground, what friend will be able to blame the grave robber?
When a thief’s prickly package is one they helped to design
With the aid of their ears made of righteous flames
And their nose, brown from a nutrition of lies
When they have given their last nickel for a promise and spoiled inspiration
Their voices will go unheard, as that boyish charm slithers past
Left with only their beds, finally burning a candle
That what they are surrounded, are snakes and mice