Last Judgement

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Come on down from there,

if only for a quick minute.

The last time I saw you is

unsatisfactory in hindsight.

Retrospection is a bitch dressed in my skin—

I’ve become leprous.

I may not pray to God, but I do

talk to Jesus. My words

fall on dead ears.

Christ will not come to me.

And if only for a quick minute, you will not

come down from there.

*

Your mother keeps on ringing me.

I don’t answer.

Does my cruelty hurt you terribly?

Some things I just can’t do to honor you.

To answer is to satisfy Jehovah, and I do not

wish to please Him. He’d used her willing hands to

ruin you. I’ve decided that

forgiving trespasses does not heal me.

Leave the forgiving to God.

Some things are simply

unforgivable

by the human heart.

*

You were both meaner and kinder than me.

I float about the in-between,

neither better nor worser.

Mother, how could you have

ever thought yourself

lesser than me?

You were my teacher—

the one who’d showed up

drunk every day,

but a teacher nonetheless.

And I wish you’d come down from there,

if only for a quick minute.

*

Come on down from there,

if only for a quick minute.

The last time I saw you is

unsatisfactory in hindsight.

 

© Kindra M. Austin

(image: Rick Richards)

Anyway, Always

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Thinking about it now, I’m not the least bit

sorry for the hateful shit I’d said to you

eleventy years ago, when I was a kid

and you fucking knew better.

I rescind my apologies.

Not that my sorries ever meant a good

goddamn to you, anyway—

they were ever only as true as your own,

anyway.

Insincerity: a common factor.

 

No, that’s not true…the truth is complex.

 

I wish I hadn’t apologized so much for defending myself

against you.

And I wish you hadn’t rolled over so easily whenever

I called you out. I wish you’d properly raged against

the reasons you were the way you were. Sure,

you’d spoken of the ghosts that breathed inside of you—

warned me of them—but never did you

exorcise them. Never did you make them scream in terror.

 

Not that your armor went unused. You’d fought your best all your life…

 

I am greater than you had ever hoped to be. I’ve welded your chainmail

to my own, and I am running into battle with your heart sewn into my banner.

Mother mine, I know your truths; yours are mine, and I will defend them,

always.

 

I will make your ghosts and mine scream in terror.

 

© Kindra M. Austin

You Remind Me

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You are droplets of sunlight in the midst of a rainstorm,

reminding me

the Constant breathes for me

when I am drowning.

 

You are the Roar when my words won’t come—

speaking for me,

reminding me

I am never voiceless.

 

In this world disparaged by the Blight of divisiveness,

you are true Eden,

reverberating the vibrancy of the Righteous.

You remind me to love.

 

For you, I too, will be

Bender of Light,

Queen of this Jungle,

Garden of Peace.

I will remind you to love.

 

© Kindra M. Austin

(image: Richard Peters)

For My Truest of Loves

23

The day was grey-blue, echo of your eyes;

sky filled up with promise of rain,

and we waited for beloved petrichor.

Lemon yellow and speckled black,

a noble friend

clasped

your flaxen strands and flexed its wings.

What dreams did she bring, my darling?

Do you know how often

I dream of the daylight that dances

upon your face?

Formed inside my body, you are

living art,

gusting love from

honest lungs—

you speak your truths.

Honor your heart always, baby girl,

and you’ll always be rewarded with

self-respect.

Live kindly,

and the butterflies

will flock to you,

forever.

For the Love of a Pontiac

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You’re so pretty,

let’s thieve us a car, and go for a spin.

I’d love to get my hands on that body built for sin.

Babe, you must have been sired by the one we

call Satan,

 

What with those doe eyes, and mouth full of Hell.

Bum me a smoke, and please, pray tell

where you’re going, Lover

 

Boy, cos there’s a

Fire-bird, and our two names are written all over

that sweet

mother-fucker,

19-69

to drive

backward in time

enough to see the dawn of Cool.

 

Fuck me in the backseat on your birthday.

 

© Kindra M. Austin

(image: MusclecarFilms.com)

Do Soulmates Even Exist?

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When will I find the one?

That’s what people wandering wonder;

they worry over love, and finding their soulmate,

never considering that

we are capable of loving many

over a lifetime, and

sometimes

all at once.

 

My heart is full to swelling,

and I wish it wasn’t

because it makes it

harder to be true to the one that

I want to be the one

 

The one

I see myself bound to for eternity.

 

© Kindra M. Austin

 

(image: Pinterest)

Chordae Tendineae

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Pluck me a melody from the sinews of your heart—

be mine

own Orpheus; private poet,

sing me your soul.

Tell me you’ll give me adoration, heavy—

more than mine arms can carry,

plus.

 

I promise I will dance for you like

Eurydice,

cherished wife.

 

I promise I will strip for you like

prostitutes do,

but for the low, low price of

one true sweetheart.

 

Pluck me a melody from the sinews of your heart

when I wake up bathing

in mine

own vomit, cos I gone and done it

again—

got stupid

over the love of a lyre.

 

© Kindra M. Austin

 

(image: Wikipedia)