April 30, 2008 by Melanie Alberts.

instantly
when I step outside
release—
long necked birds skim
the length of the lake

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April 29, 2008 by Melanie Alberts.

evening off–
two cabernets
but many stories

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April 28, 2008 by Melanie Alberts.

Every so often I like to pull out an old writing file and find words that never made it into a poem. Often they are snippets of cool sounding phrases that get stuck in my brain and I have to write them down otherwise they are forgotten and ultimately mourned as the beginnings of a lost masterpiece. Sometimes I get inspired by reading, sometimes I’m inspired by an itch, not so often I’m inspired by being so sick I just want to cuddle of box of tissues and moan about the connection of pain between my forehead, throat and empty gut. But I can’t tell what had inspired me in filed away sheets of paper. There are just these cryptic sentences, poetic foster children with their brazen hands down their pants that never get assigned to a lyrical home their entire lives. But why do I seek them out? Do I ever use them? I must have once or twice and I certainly would like to now. Every time I go back to save some of these words I’m saddened by the weight of what I must’ve been thinking. Lighten up, I think to myself. You should be like perfume, rising and shifting with the slightest sigh.

a sickening
bouquet of lilacs—
recovery

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April 27, 2008 by Melanie Alberts.

1000 recipes
and not a single egg
rainy day

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April 26, 2008 by Melanie Alberts.

I’ve given you everything
the mother says
her breasts lank from feeding
first from one side
then the other. Her child
understands
that in order to have everything
night must be descended
warmth must be drained
from these sugary cushions
she presses into his face
day and night and day.
She’s given me everything
he thinks then forgets
because in his dreams
that no one can prove exist
he crawls toward a shining ring
placed ten feet away
on the soft part of the floor
by a woman who is everything
by a woman who takes it away
as soon as he reaches the goal
and brings it to his mouth to taste.

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April 25, 2008 by Melanie Alberts.

longest night—
the moon stretches
her legs
only now notices
the earthbound lovers

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April 24, 2008 by Melanie Alberts.

isolation–
mouthful of syllables
spoken to no one

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April 23, 2008 by Melanie Alberts.

(After “Fandango-Variation” by Katherine Porter)

Wasn’t me—
my passion asked
you to dance.
She was that bony
bony soul seeking flesh:
in and out of mirrored
rooms you two made
up steps, deaf to the tune.
Looks like you liked her.

But now it’s me pressed
against your fabulous chest.
I’m blue resolve, and you
the trophy color of confidence.
We take our cues from the sun,
Revolve and burn to cupid’s
phonograph, spinning horn

and bongo duets, bright
xylophone. I give
you my palms, rock back
on flat feet and count out
loud the times I wanted
to hold you neck to toe,
swing, waltz, slow fandango.

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April 22, 2008 by Melanie Alberts.

I was born
I walked the earth
I planted the seed

I watered the grass
I fed the lamb
I chased the fox

I sheared the fleece
I gathered the nuts
I combed the wool

I boiled the shells
I stirred the dye
I spun the thread

I wound the spool
I smiled back
I gathered a posey

I fed the needle
I sewed a dress
I married a man

I shut my eyes
I screamed at the wall
I gave them names

I memorized sums
I sang a song
I cooled a fever

I spun patience
I canned perseverance
I memorized lies

I kept a fine house
I felt my heart stop
I shut my eyes

I feed the earth
I seep into creeks
I am not marked by stone

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April 21, 2008 by Melanie Alberts.

running late–
the warmth of your hand
on my back

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