On that day, countless pictures
were taken of the entire spectacle.
There were photos of all kinds:
“poses,” “ambushes,” “rushed,” and
the occasional “completely unaware.”

The sky was cloudy, but it
didn’t remotely touch the mood,
going largely unnoticed. Cars
lined the streets of the arrivals,
ready to immortalize the moment.

My hair was freshly cut, as a request
from my brother. The focus was all
on him, but I was proudly at his side.
Our mother’s hair shined on us both,
though she was not allowed to attend.

My brother cracked a joke, and like
a reflex I gave him that disbelieving
look, but I was laughing with him.
I had his ring in my pocket, guarded,
safe in his trust in me.

His wife-to-be remarked that the way
he was with me, was unmatched by anyone.
The ceremony was soon, and it was clear
he had no negative thoughts. He was ready,
and I followed his lead, like always.

She stood with me in the crystal
rain, giggling as we hid how we
waited for each other. She was
all that I wanted. Finally, I got
my chance as we traded blue kisses
that still radiated their warmth.

Mammoth was becoming my second
home. It had seasons unlike back here
in Laguna. The three of us would compete
over catching the biggest fish in spring, while
Sean and Dennis pelted me with ice that winter.
Mom lost it when she saw my cut up face.

My brother and I finally had control.
He was in the driver’s seat, making me
the co-pilot. On the way to school
he showed me my first real taste of music.
I was in punk rock bliss.

She tried to end her life. I did
what I could to stop her, blurting
out that I loved her. It wasn’t true
but her life mattered more than
my adolescent principles.
We didn’t talk for years.

I agreed to go with mother that Halloween,
following my brother’s decision.
It seemed like the greatest idea, eating candy
and watching movies all night long.
Children have no concept of the world
of consequences when you grow up.

Dad got married again. When he told
us of the proposal, we sat in shock.
Objections and betrayal filled
every part of my mind, but I could
not speak. I was dying to, but
I could not.

The cold air bit at my exposed skin,
chilling my toes until they were stone.
Each step I took was a thud
in my bones, stinging but devoid
of any pain.

The sky was hidden by gray ice.
Rain seemed inevitable, but it
never came, affording me no company.
There was nothing to distract myself
from each numb step I took.

The street was barren, the buildings silent.
I was bonding with the sidewalk, whispering
secrets to it as my body grew accustom
to the stone. The concrete had many cracks,
but it had no pain.

We found him out in the storm
soaking from head to toe.
Nothing of him was spared,
his clothes tattered and ripped.
A home was all he needed.

We shared our bread with him
and tried to dry his clothes fervently.
Still damp and cold, he was shaking.
A fire was lit and warmth filled his bones.

We could see into him.
Our inspection was scrupulous.
Like the Fates with their strings
his life was ours to mend;
a school to alter his will.

He began to fornicate with them,
the outcasts who refused our grace.
We knew he did not belong here.
Opening the door we cast him out.
He is forever dead to us now.

The door swung open before us
as rain and wind bashed its way in.
We huddled together to no avail;
one by one we were forced to our turn.
Many went with tears and dismay
struggling to hide their fear.
When my turn finally came
the wind and rain bit at me,
beckoning me with brutal force.
I looked for the comfort of my friends
to ease this transition into the storm,
but they were already scattered
to the winds and throughout the land.
Each one of us faced this alone –
children lost to the world.
In one moment I was safe in these walls
of the home I knew so well,
in the next I was in the rain’s fury,
thrashed about and banished forever.
The rain may kill us all,
but we must learn to brave the storm.

We can eradicate the jazz age sensibilities:
dreams of grand illusion and simpler words,
grand fashion festering and bold.

We can amalgamate with one another,
reuniting with our inner selves
beyond the masks of a depraved world.

We can go to the festivities together,
brushing off irrelevant omens –
dressed just right for the occasion.

We can actually meet each other
in the cold candlelight beyond here,
no longer in step with the dance floor.

We can do anything to make you happy,
silently choking, whatever it takes,
even if you only want the superficial me.

My untouched lips fidgeted
as I looked into her big eyes that fluttered
like blue jays, staring back at mine.
She drew me in as she played with my hands,
but it wasn’t until late that night,
sitting on my couch, that we tried
to make the pieces fit.

She listened to my throbbing heart intently,
her head resting on my chest,
caging me in the moment.
Her wordless insistence on waiting
was an almost cruel anticipation
that I had no desire to escape.

Then she laid her head directly next to mine.
Not even a finger would have fit between us.
I could feel the feathers of her eyes
flying across my face every time
her impatience gazed at me.
She expected the rookie to make the first move.

“Fuck it!” I thought,
and I kissed her.
It was sloppy, and it was messy,
as our lips failed to properly unite,
like pieces of an unsolvable jig-saw puzzle
being crammed together.
Hindsight would know the ordeal was terrible,
but in that moment, it was wonderful.

She was beautiful, she was willing,
and she was happily mine, so her birdsong went.
But I was just another boy in line to her,
made apparent to me as she flew off,
leaving me behind in her cage.

The pawn advances toward certain doom,
as another rushes to meet him.
His brothers watch as the pawn tests his foe
knowing nothing more than the one
before him is his enemy.
He strikes at his foe and comes out on top,
but there is no time for him to celebrate
as he is cut down before his brothers
by a knight removing the peasant trash.
The king is pleased, lazily waiting,
blinded by the reach of his bishops.
His holy war will never cease.
The queen, sympathetic to her people,
stands on the frontlines with them,
ready to sacrifice herself if she must.
Her knights move to assist her, drawing blades
with horses charging at the queen’s call.
Her beloved, now a corrupted, worthless shell
watches from the walls of his castle,
refusing to dirty his hands despite her pleas.
They march as one to face the enemy.
Each pawn wonders and worries,
dreading their permanent advance.
Will they survive to reach a higher
call, or will they be mindlessly cut down?
The empty promise of nobility if they succeed
pushes them forward, but the title is only temporary.
Above, Death is watching intently,
eager to claim and reap the pieces,
controlling both sides as he throws them away.
Friend and foe are given no distinction
while they are placed in the same graveyard.
As the sides clash the outcome is uncertain.
Even if they should win the day it will be
a battle with no clear prize, a needless victory.
Tomorrow the holy war will continue
the same way it does, every day.

Virgin lips waited anxiously
in the company of a girl
with many more notches on her belt.
I was just another boy in line to her.
An opportunity presented itself,
but we waited.

Her big, expressive eyes fluttered
like blue jays, staring back at mine.
She always had an intoxicating smile,
drawing me in as she played with my hands.
We tolled away the daylight hours on my porch,
ignoring the opportunity.

It wasn’t until late that night,
sitting on my couch, that we used the opportunity.
She expected the rookie to make the first move,
but she made herself easily available.
She sat close to me, waiting.
The opportunity was overwhelming.

She was beautiful, she was willing.
I cared about her, I really did then,
and I was thoroughly convinced I wanted her,
but I was scared.
My heart was pounding in my throat,
my sweaty palms fidgeted.
“Just do it” repeated in my head,
and she took notice of my nervous excitement,
but she waited.

She listened to my throbbing heart intently,
commenting on it that only made it worse.
Her wordless insistence on waiting
was an almost cruel anticipation,
but somehow in my incessant thoughts,
“Fuck it” came to my mind,
and I kissed her.
It was sloppy, and it was messy,
as our lips failed to properly unite,
like pieces of an unsolvable jig-saw puzzle
being crammed together.
If I had had any sort of comparison,
it was terrible.
In that moment, though, it was wonderful.

That opportunity was my first,
while also our last.
My number had been called,
my time in line was over.
She moved on from me –
in her eyes, no complications needed to follow.

Each night a battle rages - darkened lies.
Through the door crack she can hear horrid growling
as monsters bare their teeth before her eyes.
They never leave despite the new day dawning.
She hides beneath her sheets as the screams grow.
The creatures advance, biting at her head.
Those ghastly scars they leave will never show,
plaguing her innocence – flawed, wounded, dead.
Before her hope forever fades away
they realize what pain the fighting caused.
The monsters hide their fangs – a daughter’s sway,
and parents leave the battle, hiding claws.
Daddy and mommy won’t be always right.
For you sweet girl, they will no longer fight.