NaPoWriMo - Day 20

You’ve changed. He does not reply.

The passage of time is like a whisper.

Come eat with me. Silence

You did once. The truth left hanging.

Sorry. You never did like garlic did you?

He studies me now for the first time

with those eyes. Cold like the space

I struggle with under the duvey.

NaPoWriMo - Day 19

Summer. Wait for the wingtips of waves
to break on the shore deep down
in King Edward's Bay. I see her then.
Not her but her eyes - a watery cobalt.
She who danced the shore in another time,
a scarf tied to her hands now tied to mine.
I lift my arm and wave, feel the wind through fingers.
As the voices whisper in, moving out, I dance for never feeling ink.

NaPoWriMo - Day 18

scene 1

panning in from the left

three white plastic chairs bolted to the concrete floor

hog the window view

camera swings around to take in the yellow rusted

industrial sized dryers

the coin slots are blackened with use

and congealed with fluff

camera draws back to take in

the once brightly coloured soap power

dispenser advertising

a long forgotten brand of detergent

that had active agents that could tackle any stain

camera swings right to looks along

a silver block of washing machines,

the laundromat is recognised

fade in monotonous music then

cut

scene 2

camera zooms in on her face

wrinkled and taut, mouth moving too fast

zooms out to take in a body shot

framing a feminine figure in a too tight

chocolate leather jacket, belted tight

camera panning along her index finger

jabbing repeatedly into the guy’s face

camera close up of his face, dark brown beard,

fleshy lips and amber eyes 

following shot he’s backing

away with hands up as she advances

camera panning out to bring in the

silver block of washing machines again

fade in mounting music

every washer is full of white foamy suds

dark fabrics comes into view then vanishes

camera panning out further

to reveal her other hand, clutching bright red

silky underwear far too small

for her larger frame  

camera moves onto doorway

marked “way out”

cut

NaPoWriMo - Day 17

Another day watching the ocean move
under a rose sky; maple, alder and spruce.You brighten this scene like a wild moon: Fir cones, blown onto the ground, spongy to the foot; a moment to breathe.
Everyone is leaving, you sit in the pull to stay. You feel the come on of water and try to remember. When did you notice the ocean's serenade, that the base notes were inside you? Standing here, feeling the vibrations. How long have you rode the strum of waves?

NaPoMoWti - Day 16 (4 of 4)

From as far north as the Lummi Nation

and as far east as the Colville Tribe,

they would come. Come from where the land met the sea,

from prairie on prairie, and forest on forest.

The people would come on foot seeking guidance.

They had lost their way. Their mouths had been clipped.

Their eyes would stare the skin off fingers.

Raven would guide them across Hood Canal

and through the forests to the rock.

Here, he would stand aside and let the travellers climb.

They would scramble up the rock with only water at their side.

For three days they would fast on its narrow summit,

looking out over the tops of trees to the Sound

until their spiritual path would became clear.

They would find their answer,

no matter what it was, Raven said.

NaPoWriMo - Day 15 ( 3 of 4)

At 5, I watched my grandfather
walk the path- how his feet kissed
the grass lightly. How his toes gripped
the rock, tightly.
No one knew the depth of his being.
He was ancient. He had seen many things, felt many things.

In the scorching heat, he climbed
the rock taking me with him.
I loved the silence between us
filled by the woodpecker and the leaves. At the top, I remember
his amber eyes searching mine.
I remember he said that there would
come a time when I would have
to fight for this rock. I wanted
to ask why but was silenced by his
greatness amongst the trees and
the rock.

NaPoWriMo - Day 14 ( 2 of 4 )

The volcanic rock shaped like a pointed
egg towers above the cedar trees.
A single dragon's tooth fallen from
a fiery month comes to rest amongst
the Chemakuan people.

An anchoring point in times of flood,
misadventure and loss. This has fallen
out memory. The Elders have gone
and the young think of the food
they'll eat tonight. Hamburgers.
Cheesecake.