The saint cries with tired eyes
Look at the wild fires – Hills
against a dark sky waiting for
a red moon revealing hours
I need weights of restless
feet waking up on soaked sheets
The sacred skies won’t fix it
Closer than breathing it sticks
to a heightened light – Guide me
Hide me under big grey wings
For now it can be that chosen
feel small and fragile holding
rosaries and counting to all
that see the order – The likes
of humanity and their alikeness

© Monique (starfish_72)



A quiet saint looks over a tablecloth
New cuttings of wisdom are healing
Crystals and crosses can feel it
Archangels dropped, spells taken up
Ancient trunks are twisting and sealing
The old order of texts repeated and
repressed needs is now keeling
The transformation smokes
and promises more revealing

© Monique (starfish_72)


You stepped away
and didn’t notice this chest
reloading another round
When my thoughts are
stripped solitary – it’s best
I care for them alone
You don’t know this home
I recycle you senseless
My troops are armed
and know I’m equipped
to drip through this wide
cage of ribs – all are gone
the direction unknown
I’m still talking and wish
you’ll find it at best a heart
not to test – We’re all
beating hopeless and rush
to feel it when mush

© Monique (starfish_72)


The change of address pile
is less than she expected
Her widowed illusions
got dragged and shaky – no
longer loved or respected
The swansong of willows
sounds muted, the lance
that left the rejection
may turn untouched, unnoticed
She hopes when she sees
her reflection – the bare
soul of it all along with her
bags will be collected

© Monique (starfish_72)


Silence – that’s cruel
Don’t get me started
on the heartless behavior
I will imply – Your guilt
will grow a size taller

I need to be spread
Elevated & read – talked
about in letters & words
To be heard – To be pleased
Mercy on the unsung
cut from this life story

The window’s cross is lost
I fear that dark (w)hole
where I panic on the ledge
that terrifying edge I made
them call emptiness, where
I rest in restlessness – no!

Keep away from that grave
You should behave, not me
never me, don’t let me be
Don’t leave me alone
This throne leans over

Hold me – I’m falling
and it’s just me – Ego
g o n e  s i l e n t
I’m handed over – I fear

Can you hear it tone
down – Now I (this) exist
in the muscles and the
fist relaxes with the chest
I rest the best I can

© Monique (starfish_72)

Spooky Loops

– I look better dead –
the kid with slick hair says
He puffs spooky loops
in an open sash window
still trying to impress me

Our boarders drift – then
drag across brushed floors
Traces of loneliness left
by jumpy new arrivals
to be mopped up

I recall that first touch
Covering his ears and eyes
from sounds and darkness
he wasn’t used to – Today
he holds the smallest ones

Says it’s all right, don’t ask
When I plead for mortal bits
in trying to restore memory
Instead he jokes about returning
Sparks provide nightlights

Our perfect imperfect nobodies
learn to match their doubts
and how choosing a mate
feels better for the time being
We close shutters on their world

© Monique (starfish_72)


If I don’t employ my mind to recall
The wheels of my dad’s clocks will lock
Pheme’s trumpet stays untouched
and the loop of time stops solid

I tilt my head and register his slow steps
A timid artisan with a quiet contentment
Alone in a workshop among 5000 pieces
Favourite hours chime at noon and night

The pendulum moves from side to side
A common sound became more lovable
The oak cases still smell of oil – I believe
Clockmaker’s children know what time it is

Tick-tick-tick-tick – it’s mechanics
Until a man with textured hands
Assembles a personal timepiece
Trusting the eyes that bring it together

I know I walk like him and stand like him
When my thoughts are unguarded
Everything takes is natural course
By looking – I meet him in time

© Monique (starfish_72)