Blade of Grass

Photo by S Migaj on
Sat down on the ground,
Crisscross applesauce,
Put my hands in the dirt,
Trying to make sense of life without you,
No nuggets of wisdom gleaned,
Came up with a blade of grass as fragile,
And precious as your life was,
It blew away just like you did,

I laid flat on my back,
Searched the clouds for your face,
To see if you were peaking
Through the floor of Heaven,
But I couldn’t find you,
The clouds were shapeless
Without you pointing to a specific cloud
To provide meaning,

I am looking for the meaning
Without you in my life,
But how can you quantify the loss of someone
 Who kisses me at sunrise, and kisses me at sunset
 Because the sun made me look more radiant 
In those golden hours, 
But your golden hours were every hour, 
Every moment I spent with you in between, 
Even when we were in an argument, 
And there were some times that I hated you, 
But I always always loved you!

You were plucked from this earth too soon,
Your golden radiance extinguished,
But your love will last in my heart, 
And those you loved as long as we shall live,
Until we meet again my beloved blade of grass!

By Hyacinth Hale

Pink Slip

I slipped away early, 
taking my thirty,
Eating my pretzels, 
And shopping online for cardigans,
You came and found me,
Asked if I was ok
Because I did not take my lunch at 2:30,

You did not hear me leave, 
But twenty minutes later,
You noticed my absence,
And your only sadness was that
I wasn’t there ready and willing to say
Goodbye when you left,

Most days you say goodbye to everyone in the office,
And pass by me in silence
Not even turning your head to look back,
The days you do stop and talk
It’s all about you,
And I got tired of waiting,

I was happy scrolling and crunching,
In my cramped kitchen fruit fly infested oasis,
Part of me knew you’d come for me,
Black holes search for the light,
and though mine dims for you,
It’s not quite extinguished,
I can see you thinking,
Asking the bare minimum questions,
But never the ones I want to answer,

Good! Let my mystery fester,
Let it eat at you
Like the bile churning in my stomach,
When for a brief moment,
I think, “huh…he came for me”
Before I remember all the times you left me,
All the times you chased other women,
Literally, spending hundreds of dollars
Just to impress them at the clubs here,
You must think me cheap or boring,

Well, these red lips would kiss you goodbye,
But it’s not worth smudging my makeup,
And no, I did not wear it for you or some other guy,
I just like the meditation of painting my secrets,
And the deep desire for others to finally listen,

You are afraid of losing me,
It’s funny because you gave no thought
To leaving me behind,
But I dare not to orbit around your periphery
For thirty minutes, and you come find me,
Tell me I’m not eating at “2:30”,
If I was not in the kitchen,
Would you have barged into the bathroom?

You’re worse than a toddler
Because at least a toddler tells you what they want!
You never told me you wanted me,
You only act like you do until I give in,
And you can walk away satisfied
While I yearn for more,

I smile at you with my red lips,
Clenching my resentment,
I am not yours; you made that clear,
You are not mine; you made that clear,
You are leaving that is clear,
And you won’t even throw a Hail Mary,
And clear the air,

Let me take my thirty minutes of peace,
Let me slip away in quiet solitude,
Be one with the fruit flies,
And buy the cardigan in the world I created without you
Because the fruit flies are less bothersome
Than the blood sucking mosquito you have become!

By Hyacinth Hale

ET Phone Home

Photo by KoolShooters on
If men are Martian and women are Venusian,
And no one seems to be able to communicate,
How in the world did we populate the Earth?
Make babies and procreate?
All I got to say is thank God for body language!

Though some men still think red means go,
And no means yes, and pushing and shoving
Is just rough housing foreplay, so what’s a girl to do?
What are women to do, but especially,
The girls growing up surrounded
By alien predators lurking?

Not all boys, not all men,
But enough for young girls and women 
To band together to tell their stories 
At sleepovers, over drinks, and during coffee breaks
To strategize how best not to get harassed,
Molested, raped by these pretend invaders,
I wonder if boys and men are having similar
Conversations about how best not to rape?

When you finally do find a man,
And bring him home,
And deem him not a predator,
You still cannot seem to talk to him,
He seems to think that he is logical,
And that your feelings are too emotional,
And everything you do from the way you walk past him
To the way you do the laundry is sexual,
And when you finally are in the mood, it is inevitable,
It will be during the football game that he waited all week to see,
And no amount of rubbing his thigh,
And whispering questions in a low sensual tone
Will distract him from living vicariously through
The snap of the pigskin between the thighs of
The representation of modern-day warriors,
And because we cannot communicate,
We are foreigners living in the same house,
In the same bed, inside each other,

Then the little aliens come,
And the communication breaks down further,
As we realize we do not know what we are doing,
We band together, praying for an alien abduction
After six months of three am feedings,
But we fight over everything,
No fight too petty for the sleep deprived
Joyous new parents of a vomit-soaked poop monster,
You have one goal, keep the little humans alive,
Executed in drastically different fashion
The dangerous half assed way and the right way,
And depending on if you are a man or a woman,
You will disagree on which parent you are, 
and who your partner is,

Congratulations! You survived the parenting mission,
And you are kicking your kids out of the mothership
Into the big bad Universe to explore
And try to communicate better than you did,
And you are stuck with your partner alone
For the first time in eighteen plus years,
Only to realize, he is still rusty with his Venusian,
And you are still struggling with your Martian,
Because somewhere along the way,
You stopped trying to become fluent,
And just accepted it is what it is,
And drifted further apart
Onto opposite sides of the couch,

Sure, you have sex, but it is mechanical, formulaic,
Scratching an itch rather than stoking the fire
That used to burn inside the both of you 
Where each difference you had 
Was a treasure that you wanted to unearth,
 To dive deeper into their mind and their body,

You forgot to ask after year three,
If anything, you did felt good or bad,
Or to explore, and try to plant a flag
Like it was the first time because
What was once foreign, became so familiar
That it was common, and no longer special,
And work and the kids, and life in general distracted you,

Now, your bodies and your minds are temporal,
There is only so much time left with your partner to relearn,
Or perhaps, learn for the first time, 
who they truly are before they evaporate into the ether,
So, what are any of us to do,
But to endeavor to make it our mission
To become fluent in our partner’s foreign tongue,
Both figuratively and literally,
Until our shriveled unfurled last breath

~ By Hyacinth Hale


Photo by Nataliya Vaitkevich on
I trace my lips thinking what it would be like for yours to press against mine,
To be of one breath, one mind, one body, one soul, 
if only for a moment, to feel your warmth, your desire, unashamed,

I trace my lips and feel the soft velvety wetness 
As I salivate thinking of the taste of your tongue,
My lips parting, humbly submitting
As your pink flesh gently caresses mine,
I fear no danger, not from you, 
Nor the bacteria that resides in your mouth,
Some things are worth the risk,
You are, love is, the kind of love I want is,

I trace my lips sucking the tip of my finger, 
Imagining it is your fat bottom lip,
Not wanting your kiss to end even in my imagination,
I imagine pulling you in close to me, kissing you harder,
Getting lost in your mouth and high off your pheromones,

I trace my lips feeling silly,
We haven’t even touched,
No love nor feelings declared,
Only the lust of long haughty stares,
As my red lips draw your eyes and drop your jaw,
bouncing from my breasts to my lips to my eyes and back to my lips,
A gasp comes out in the moment, and a sigh comes out later, 
As I trace my fingers thinking of your lips pressed against my ear,
You wooing me in your native tongue, 
Though I don’t speak it, I understand your meaning,
I understand the meaning of your lips pressed against mine,

I trace my lips for albeit the ghost like residue of lust 
and love commingling on my skin, yours and mine, 
For now, a trace of you will have to satiate my appetite 
For the lips of a man not yet mine,
Not owned by me but bravely surrendered, 
I wait for your gallant surrender, 
as you wait for my supple permission,
My fingers leave my lips, and they trace my heart 
until the day your fingers can trace my body, 
and your lips can find mine without a trace

~ By Hyacinth Hale


Photo by Anna Shvets on
When I first caught eyes with you,
It was exciting, something new,
But you looked away,
And I put you out of my mind,
I went back to the grind,
I had a job to do,

When the whirling tornado of life
Kept throwing us together,
I would catch eyes with you
Because you were my constant,
But you would always look away,
And I would spin around and out of your orbit,
At first, I was sure you weren’t interested in me,
And then, confused that someone would take such great pains
To hide from me a stranger that they never talked to
As to actively turn their back to them in order to hide in plain sight,
I thought you were a jerk but only to mask my pain and hurt.

Until one day, I walked toward and past you,
And you caught my gaze,
One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four,
Before you jerked your head in pure torture,
Something I don’t do maybe it’s female privilege,
Or maybe I just crave your connection, 
To be seen, to be desired, to be known,

I watched your perplexing evolution,
When you uttered one shocking syllable “hi”
As you caught my peripheral absolutely unnerving me,
Causing me to utter the same syllable back,

The next day I upped the ante,
And said “morning”,
 You matched my progression,
Arousing your gaze from your feet
To catch the light in my eyes as I passed,
And this dance went on,
Some days no syllables uttered,
Only a head nod as I passed,
Lowering your head but never your eyes,
Submitting a small piece of your soul to our attraction,

Finally, we were alone
No prying eyes or slanderous mouths
Ready for their next bite of gossip,
When you caught me in the kitchen,
You uttered those two same syllables “morning”
Before you darted back into darkness,
No doubt running from the flame in my eyes
Stoked by your presence,
I wish I uttered “wait” held your feet and your eyes
To the fire burning inside me when I am around you,
I need more words, two words, three words, four,
A lifetime of words, maybe a touch or two,
Though I am afraid of your touch,
 I want it too much,

Who is this man that will sacrifice his body
And actively run into a fire,
But now runs away from the fire no doubt in both our eyes,
What is your name?
I don’t even know your name!
For now, I will just call you my firefighter

~ By Hyacinth Hale