Rejected Fortune Cookies

Been a while ne? Schedule got mad busy with weddings, work, and my EMT class. I'll try to be better. Here's the 7th poem in my self study. About my Aunt Lizzy who passed in front of me 2 years ago. She is the reason I want to take care of people instead of teaching English. I miss you Aunt Liz.

Sharing 103 Years

Watching The Moon nap away - I wonder why
She has descended from her vantage point high above to mingle
With the common folks that admire her so
The electric bed molded into a chair to fit her mood
She sits, asleep - so deeply asleep
Unable to hear the bustling of nurses - or
Our greetings as we enter the room.

This room is quiet - the television barely pushing through the air
This room is oppressively warm - it sits on me like a dead weight
Grandma, Jenny, Jackie all there
I keep looking at everyone's faces, but they reveal nothing
Like ancient stars in orbit - they are content to watch The Moon
My youth bubbles and nags - the sun is rising
But I manage to squash the dawn flat,
Amusing her with the little snores escaping The Moon.

The Moon inhales - holding it - holding it - holding
    my eyes open to receive the gift
She exhales one last time
Releasing the soul forward - dispelling across the room
Hitting me like the shrapnel from the car that plows head first into a semi
And I have felt each part all at once - entering the waters of the eye.

            Each one lacerates flesh
            Making my still beating heart - bloodied
            Shredding to strands the muscle of life
            A tattered curtain billows before the opened window -
                        blocks the quiet outside
            The hand with the shard of glass rips,
            But that jagged piece cuts too - the holder’s hands.

            Moon turns around - dropping her dress
            Revealing her darkness
            Sun blushes - half lidded eyes
            Cannot look away from her nakedness.

            Sterile air once cold and clinical
            Now warms with the smell of fresh earth and saline
            Blending in a graveyard
            The raindrops fall hard - carving holes in the soil and then consumed
            Each digs further beneath for the answers.

            A voice on the wind now
            Familiar, hearty, warm and -ah!-
            There is a faint smell of old foundation and lipstick
            Of stale cocktails, now being picked up and sipped
            Stirring the fragrance of orange peels
            Calling me back.

Back to the room where the nurse is saying – she’s gone

The Moon is pale and still - She returns the dress to her body and
 perches once again in the sky - even with her eyes closed

She watches with her wisdom.

In the face of death - I have found beauty
The life cycle has been spread before me:
       Bright flower blooms
       Breaking at the neck
       Bud and petals falling into current
       Below the rush of melting waters - take it away
She has shown me the spectrum – all the colors now visible.
I can appreciate its perfection - forever -
Haunting both my eyes.