Christine E. Ray's Blog, page 7
March 14, 2024
Obsession #2
you
my Boston obsession
or perhaps
I was yours…
when my ego was at
an all-time low
you told me
I was
attractive
sexy
funny
interesting
irresistible
you said that your
relationship open
so I let you kiss me
and I kissed you back
gazed into those
gorgeous blue eyes
tangled fingers
into your black curls
made out with you
until we were both
breathless
aching
turned out you
and your girlfriend
had slightly different ideas
about just how open
your relationship
really was
she took me for coffee
to set me straight
told me to stay away
I tried
I really did
but we were
wildfire together
star crossed
would-be lovers
late night whispered
phone calls
passionate love letters
your best friend
our go-between
shaking her head sadly
knowing this wasn’t
going to end well
we had just enough
impulse control
to keep tank tops on
denim shorts zipped up
given the reputation
our emotional affair
earned me
the other woman
I have always rather regretted
not tearing your clothes off
when I had the chance
getting you out of my system
once and for all
© 2017 Revised 2024 Christine E. Ray – All Rights Reserved
March 13, 2024
A Suitable Period of Mourning
I do not have a closet
crowded with mourning clothes
I have never
inked the names of my dead
on my tender forearms
in solemn homage
the list too long
my arms too short
to box with God
I am a motherless child
who grieved too long
for the comfort of others
left me wondering if grief
is considered contagious
a virus?
what is the suitable period of mourning
for loss of my identity
as daughter?
as granddaughter?
we do not mention pregnancy losses
as if they don’t count
don’t matter
as though the hopes
the dreams
we embraced
for those little balls of cells
were weightless
mere dandelion fluff
in the breeze
we are left
standing alone
in contemplation
of our empty arms
is a man who never held his breathing child
still a father?
a widowed woman still a wife?
a boy who has lost his twin still a brother?
who are we when those we love are lost
and all that remains are their empty shapes on our soul
like Peter Pan’s shadow?
© 2017 Revised © 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved
March 12, 2024
Sister Outsider
Sister Outsider
how many times
have my hazel eyes
bought me the
luxury of blindness?
how many times
has the skin I walk in
this ivory cocoon
insulated me
from your reality?
how many times
have I naively
claimed that we
are all the same
underneath our pigment
as if my bones
had carried
the weight of your
ancestors’ chains
as if my blood
knew the acid burn
of your rage
pumping through
your body
as you have been
undermined
underestimated
exploited
pushed aside
excluded from a seat
at the table?
how many times have
I made it your job
not mine
to teach me the truth
about your life?
how many times
have I been silent
when I should speak?
how many times
did I patronizingly
assume that I knew what you wanted
what you needed
without listening to your voice?
Sister Outsider
how many times
have I failed you?
how many times
will I fall short
and I fail you still?
© 2019 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved
March 10, 2024
Operator, I’d Like to Place a Call
the missing of you
feels like a small animal
gnawing at my heart
my world isn’t quite right
when I can’t be sure
that you are still in it
you have severed yourself
from all modern technology
that you declare
‘sources of connected
disconnection’
it leaves me with hands empty of you
I think about placing a call
the old-fashioned way
but I am all out of quarters
and payphones have become almost extinct
only found in the Smithsonian
next to the manual typewriter
you wouldn’t open the door
to a stranger
I know you would appreciate the whimsy
of a tin can stretched between our houses
but I don’t have 2,700 miles of string
I try to connect with you through the ether
grab the thread of your vibrating frequency
but your beautiful colors
are not calling out to me
the way they usually do
I must resort to inscribing a message
into the night sky
letting you know that you are loved
that you are missed
© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved
