poetry

Aging with Chocolate

I sit upon a chair of hard, handsome Oak.
Hershey's chocolate, waxy, melting sweetly
In my mouth.
A soft cushion of pale green linen
Below me,
One of its ties ripped away.
Lush green Sage, Melissa,
And Chamomile
Flourish in the three windows which
Form a wall.
My child jumps from chair to floor
And back again.
His hair the pale yellow of corn silk.
His eyes are the same
Sleepy cobalt
Of the swirling rug
Beneath our feet.
He smells of Johnson's
Baby shampoo.
I hand him a piece of
Chocolate.
He becomes still.
The tablecloth has become wrinkled,
The checkered pattern rising, bumpy.
From the corner the computer blinks
Beckoning hypnotically.
My skin is salty
As I lick away the streaks of
Hershey's chocolate.
A glossy gray ceramic pot
Holds the scent of
Blooming Lavender.
The unnatural yellowish light,
From the bulbs overhead,
Is broken by the endless twirl
Of a ceiling fan.
A long, reaching potted plant
Rests upon the desk.
Each leaf heart-shaped and vivid.
Veins of cream reach through
The leaves,
Breaking the monotony.

I will sit upon a chair of dull, pitted Oak.
My battered back painful against
The slats.
Rough hands will wring themselves
Endlessly.

I will put a miniature square
Of Hershey's chocolate
In my mouth,
Letting it slowly melt.
I will think that I must iron the tablecloth
Soon.
(Geysers of steamy water
Jetting over the worn linen.)
The cushions will be scratchy
And hard,
Bearing the weight of history
Flat, lifeless.
A jungle of wild
Flourishing foliage
Will grow up around me.
Brambles in a castle garden
Keeping others out for
Hundreds of years.
Small, graceful,
Gaily feathered birds
Will sing from high in the
Leaves of Sage,
Each leaf bigger than
My head.
My child will sit across from me.
Hair darkened with age,
Streaked gray with memory.
His eyes will be the same
Deep sea that rolls
Against the door frame.
He will smell strongly of
Tangy apples
And oregano.
He will melt pieces
of his own
Hershey's chocolate
between his wrinkled lips.
The computer will screech
Insistently
For me to turn out the light.
Crumbling brown dirt will layer
The ground.
Hershey's chocolate bars
Will jut up out of variegated
Leaves.

Murder
Crystal raindrops
Form of discarded stars.
Tears stream through ivory trails
Down the heat of my cheek.
Flickering light shrouds the scene
In surreal images.
Nothing is dulled- stark, vivid.
The pictures return.
The heart of pain
Resides within my soul.
Nothing is sacred.
A moment so weakened.
Lifetimes passed.