Ode to My Morning Meds, and: Lectio Divina: Big Barda and Mister Miracle, Mister Miracle #5, and: I Tell My Mother about My Depression

Ode to My Morning Meds

Tossed to mymouth's silknight skywhere livethe lion andthe loversand the archerwhose lyrebegged a museto createapplausea murderof thunder-claps cryingjoy or a soulwhipped likeboughsin the nightstormthat picksits petalslike scabsopen budswhere fruitwill bloom.

Lectio Divina: Big Barda and Mister Miracle, Mister Miracle #5

Days after he cut openhis wrists, he says 'You could ask me,y'know. To stay.I'd fight.' And she says

'I can't … Scott, I told you. I'm notyour way out. All I can beis your wife.'

In the dark, my love,I could be your windowof flame—But to savethe candle, you have tosnuff it out.

I could have never let himleave like the last webs of night.I could have stood like a duneagainst the tide.

The sun lost iceto its own embrace,to the roots of mapleswhose leaves make starsof their absence.

I Tell My Mother about My Depression

She is ashamed of my seasickness,her son, bled down from boat people.

We are kidding, of course: between wavesand prayers to Mercy, she swore

her child would never knowthe damp of hunger in his bones.

She wanted him fat as clayand twice as soft. In college, I lost

ten pounds of myself and halfthe words she sang to me as a baby.

The aunties cooed my new framebut she was silent, both of us

famished for the words we meant.With what coals still hold warmth,

I say I'm sad from sun to sunand her response is a crisp

twenty for the quiet burger jointwe went to when I was young

and we saw the world with the samelanguage but still never talked,

or didn't need to, our mouths andbellies singing a hymn of fullness.