By Amy Thomson
The closet of masks
sparkles with gleaming teeth,
beneath empty eyes,
hollow lies
lie lurking.
Always working
the perfect angle,
trust is mangled
and coated
with sugar bloated,
empty words
that fill your ears,
crawl into your brain,
center of disdain,
dissolve.
Conversation involves
crafting your smile,
spitting saccharin lullabies
from your gleaming teeth
catch your reflection,
caught the infection,
staring back at two, hollow eyes.
By Amy Thomson
Construction booms
shake the rooms,
rattling, rumbling, reverberating,
perforating the hour.
Deliberating the ultimate power:
Time,
how to slice it just right,
keeping future in sight.
Still learning from the past,
too late to cast
necessary wisdom,
intoxicating system
breeding bees
to make cheese
a tight squeeze
in the schedule,
a sexy tease,
a little hair pull.
Clumps of hair drown the drain
the wicked pain
of lost dreams,
blown away with kites,
a bittersweet sight,
aspartame bite.
Can barely find time to breathe
without choking on guilt.
The Empire we’ve built
starts to wilt.
Time caresses valleys around
Mother’s eyes
regrets disguised
as her children’s tears dried,
refused rides,
became brides,
she tried
her best.
The red giant will still
set in the West,
even after we’ve gone,
The East will bear dawn.
By Amy Thomson
Fingers laced,
embraced
by navy glitter,
nothing bitter,
city sleeps,
no horn beeps,
no siren weeps,
no children wails,
just wagging tails.
Leash pulls
our lips apart,
again we start,
dog darts.
Giggles swallowed
as we follow
an excited pup
back home.
By Amy Thomson
It’s hitting me
all at once,
energy
part of me,
part of it,
something more,
dancing off screen.
My poem is d a n c i n g.
Inhale
can’t fail.
Intense.
No sense.
Senses on fire,
Perspire,
Waxahatchee lullabies
energize.
What a night,
who knew?
Now you do.
It’s strong,
so are you
you’ll be fine.
Give it time.
Pupils gleam,
two black pools,
tools to see the unseen,
psychedelic gene,
third eye clean.
By Amy Thomson
Naive gasoline
soaks childhood dreams,
yearning mother’s beams
as I’m tearing at the seams.
A bright burst of light
quickly settles in the night
as I start feel the fright
that my life will not take flight.
Now, I never feel alright,
and her smile starts to wean,
cover pain,
try in vain,
just to gain
a mother’s love.
Disappointed,
dreams disjointed,
once anointed,
now dethroned.
Pick up the phone,
hesitate,
heart debates,
can’t relate,
clear my plate.
Now she knows
I’m nothing great.
Drop my classes,
join the masses.
Burnt out star
reduced to char,
missed the bar,
now sub par.
Always was
just because
I was her dolly,
act of folly.
Sold acceptance
for identity,
lost serenity,
emotional amenity.
I crave that blanket,
despite suffocation,
incessant persuasion,
Amy erasure,
at least I could face her
eyes with pride,
should have tried,
pushed aside,
failed to abide.
Far from calm,
rejected psalm,
I dropped a bomb,
I’m sorry, mom.
By Amy Thomson
Eyes droop like July’s
dehydrated hydrangeas
and December’s trees.
Bones tired,
will expired,
now sour,
lack power,
lack movement.
Improvement
futile.
Political dial
broken off,
sent into space
without a trace.
Away with logic,
to hell with peace.
Our planet’s lease
ending,
evicted.
Science predicted
heat waves,
dance raves.
Hurricane,
litocane,
collagen,
glamour sin.
Lush lips,
stock dips,
Flint sips
a pathetic excuse.
Water,
getting hotter.
Women walking
museums.
We’re so dumb,
give us some
attention,
bad intention.
Cat fight,
a trite sight,
despite
our innocence.
Compete for jobs
not slobs.
Kiss The Man,
not a man.
Grab pussy,
you wussy.
Honey,
money Trumps
choices,
voices,
losing hope,
grab the rope.
Pray for end,
let Her send
a quick goodbye,
for this land, I’ll die
so She can sigh,
and wonder,
why?
