Are you busy?

Are you busy?
Can you send the kids out to the movies for a while?
The tears won't stop now,
my face is hot in the sun.
I need to breathe you,
I need to cry out loud
and scream.
I need to curl up in the warmth of your flesh
and let you be
mother,
holder,
comfort, love.
I need to scream
and my face needs to be streaked with wet dust
where nobody can be disturbed.
I just need to cry
free.
Real wails, real gasps and snot
where your absorbency can just hold me
no lectures or commiserations
breast and body, hair and eyes.
Are you busy?
I need to cry.

Smile

Boxter dog,

he smiles, doesn't know better.

Leading where we let him, heeling when he has to.

Mostly he follows

me around my crowded kitchen

until I can't stand it anymore and yell,

"Get out of the kitchen!"
and he goes.

He flys over walls, dances in grass
blows bubbles in the muddy water with his face.
Glory life, he says
nothing left but detail
a scent, a dragonfly, a sparkle in the night.

Just a brown dog with wrinkles in his forhead,
a serious smile, concerned eyes.
"Are you happy?" he asks.
"Can you slow down for me?"
He makes circles around my feet,
figure eights,
infinity.