Day 3

I am the last leaf
Unrelenting in the fall
Firmly planted on the limb
No wind can release me

#napowrimo2019

#poetry

Day 2

she walked into the room
like a dare
neck wrapped 
in red pashmina

what does it all mean?
she asked
looking me in the eye
a rumour of a smile
pulled the corners
not expecting the words
to leave my own lips
after taking a deep 
and measured breath “Love is everything”
another breath
“The universe knows what to do”
I finished with a smile
“and pie is good”

Still smiling 
I woke up 
shared the message
over coffee
and let it rest 
like a bird on my shoulder

pie is good
especially 
at breakfast time
true story.

#napowrimo2019

#poetry

Day 1 
Arrange your words
Like tiles on a game board 
Like you know 
Life vomits, hiccups, makes love
To the moment 
The moment you let go
Of the tile
You have lost.
How does that
Feel
?

Lament
One face to get 
The job done
One face to get by
One face to get
The smile
One face to cry

I pick up your lamentation
Between my fingers
Your sick saccharine disgust
Burrows into the pores
Of
My skin

Each
A hole
In the not white enough
Too white
And privileged
Skin

How
Does
That
Feel
?

It’s a big fuck you
Very much
And a thank you
Kick
In the ass

Do something

I don’t care
For this not caring
Not giving a damn
About
The roots
The love
The beginning

Where did you come from?
Do you think 
A vacuum?

You are on the silk
Stuck struggling
In the construct
While the spider licks her lips
For the next meal.

Get that.

Arrange
Your
Breath
Like it is the last

I am grateful
For the next

Arrange
Your 
Heart
Like it is loving

I am grateful

Arrange
Your voice
Like it is mute

I am grateful

I walk my soul’s Estate
Barefoot

#napowrimo2019

#poetry

instant oatmeal falls
free from the torn pouch
to wait for boiling water
where ceramic curves
stuck in thick paste
to fight with the spoon

I want breakfast pie.
I want to live on
caffeine and mascara.
I want to forget the balanced meal
in the bottom of a wine bottle.
or ice cream tub

kettle whistling
breaks my reverie
one shoe sits forgotten
in the living room
my shirt is on inside out and backwards
judging by the reflection
in the microwave door
~

Broken frames tilt
in staccato steps across the wall
corners separated,
paint chipped and fading
Hanging by wire and finishing nails

landscapes not been seen in decades
I watch them leading across the room
silent parade
to the gold dipped window glass
witness the end of another day.

river stones on the window sill
are a reminder of strength I never had
but wished for
drawn in white quartz lines running around
the edge of granite smoothed by water’s constant breath

I turn the switch of the milk glass lamp
let the soft light fall over me
my feet hang off the edge
toes barely touching hardwood
one push back and I fall

night steals long shadows
dresses them to dance
in corners and stairwells
while I wrestle with the day
still living in my head

sleep comes to curl up beside me
a dent on the pillow
while I stare at the ceiling
willing the space between
one breath and the next
to bring more than it does

~

la fraser
September 2017

I wanted silence
after days of noise
and tears
heartbreak
silence
instead of music
birdsong or
conversation

I wanted darkness
to sit on my chest
and suffocate me
squash the light
from the corners
of my closed eyes
instead of opening
my heart to the sun

I wanted nothing
to fill the hole
left by a life undone
empty cups of tea
unsent letters
forgotten dreams
instead of stepping up
arms wide to gather

but that is not
the way of things
not at all

night rose
faint hint of gold
below gradient blue
trees still bare
snow melted still
on the wire
one last wintered gift
and I
I was lost
in memories
and wishes
what might come
and what will never
candle light
in mercury glass
frames the wondering
the hoping
the doubting
the wanting
the fear
the sorrow
the letting go
heart closed
I closed my eyes
prayed for sleep
and waited
for another
morning
to arrive
~

you died
at the beginning of spring
I felt your passing
knowing without knowing
my heart ripped away
and thrown into darkness
I knew
felt your love around me
like hummingbird kisses
one day we will walk
on the beach together
hand in hand
sweet girl I miss you
like lungs miss air
you were there
when my world fell apart
and listened while tears
wore trenches in my skin
lifelines in petals
and leaves
I will hold you
in those beautiful moments
grateful to know
your magic
touched me
burning marks to my soul
to remind me
you live.

day 5
Leigh-Anne Fraser
theme: the magician

you are the smell of coffee
in the faint morning light
lavender violet clouds
drifting past the window
as I stir the cream
with a spoon

I forget to breathe
when I see you
the smile no longer
rumoured on my lips
my skin giggles from
the pores
and I blush
in spite of myself
giddy

you embrace me
like a wave on the shore
in moonlight
while stars dance above
and breezes whisper secrets
along the shorline

never let me go.

day 4
Leigh-Anne Fraser
theme: page of cups

retreat
move forward
retreat a different way
move again
sliding across the board
until one more piece
is taken

my head pounds
thinking about you
watching
sitting
far enough away
to touch the glass

I asked for nothing
not the game
or the turning
the distance
or ridicule
and yet you gave it
freely

I took it
because at the time
I was worth nothing more

that nothing has grown
into wisps of clouds
intertwined with blue
the blush of spring blossoms
the rush of water
freed from the grip of winter
the light of morning
touching the window

without asking

I sit
bowed low
living
in your absence
~
April 3
Leigh-Anne Fraser

theme: the emperor

in the last light
knots untie
not by themselves of course
but carefully
with delicate fingers
and patience

I close my eyes
to work on the worst parts
the torn pages
torn pieces
forgotten
and buried

silk threads fall
through my fingers
undo the tapestry
as it hangs on the wall
across from me
watching
picking at the threads

do I know the worst parts
without knowing the best
asking threads to stop
weaving in and out
stop creating
makes no sense
no questions

in the last light
until the first
I let the threads fall
and begin weaving again.

pages turn
blanket unused
unspoiled
no scratches
or creases
empty

I cannot mirror
my mind
in the bleached fibers
no colour or ink
that blooms under my finger tips
within the stretched skin
covering my heart

although I try

I stare at the blank wall
wondering why
the words stop
at the glass

no not why
I know the answer

but why will they not move past
the chrystaline membrane
to breathe fresh air

pen picked up, put down
another torn page
blank screen
tick tack
then nothing

like a heart beating
breath held
and waiting
~
day 1
NaPoWriMo

30 days of poetry
theme: Two of Cups