To My Bug

Undying light –
youth of a limited
eternity –
may you grow like oak
against hail storms spit out
into the air – or soft linen
in a cool stream.
Washed but free to wander
when the weather is clear.
I will uproot you,
asking forgiveness in
moments I regret
the process of aging –
fearing the memories
that will make you un-mine.
I cannot leave
until your happiness
is sewn into this quiet Earth –
the final ring inside my
brittle bark.

© Audrey Rosengreen, 2018  For my buggy

Well Days Are Still Tired Nights

It’s unbecoming of a liar
to tire on the empty days
of which the truly lost
yearn to lay their heads
on the warm thighs
of a half interested
series of caresses.
——–That’s like living the dream!
But (and there’s always a but)
people like us stand on the shores
edge, tonguing teeth and tiny
bits of sand caught from
the wind carrying upwards
our inconsistent spirits –
a stench so imbued with salt
one can’t help but wonder
if the weeks before were
all a dream – wreaking havoc
on the humid normality
of everyone’s perfect day.
But lucky me,
I have the kind of thighs
that hold unconditional interest.

© Audrey Rosengreen, 2018

I seek forgiveness…

I seek forgiveness not 
with God but with them.
The ones with Eyes 
sewn into the backs of their heads
        - who gesticulate their shame
while I discard my heart through
painted fingernails trying to drink
air through garbled recordings
of a Voice I do not recognize.

        - I am the shit show -
the Garbage silhouette 
        - out of breath -
dancing on the glass they 
drop along with eggshells
I use to pay the dues owed 
for my bloody feet.

© Audrey Rosengreen, 2018

disoriented

control ebbs - contracting back
into the Horizon where waves are born
where they die
peacefully
over and over again

I don't know how to write from here. 

a body can only sink so many
times before they stay
still
with the tide
tucked neatly under
the bottom of the sea
greedy - hungry
little fish nibble at salty skin
sore knees - open palms
reaching for the stray light
peaking through a nauseous sky.

But these forms mean absolutely nothing. 

over and over again
peacefully
where they die
inside the Horizon where waves are born
contracting back - control ebbs. 


© Audrey Rosengreen, 2018



San Francisco

It was cold as fuck the first night and every other night after. With our arms linked, our knees knocked and our needs on high we stayed warm in the glistening orbs of light – the kind that manifest when you squint your eyes in a dirty city – alive but kind and wanting. The air smelled like salted seafood but Bronze Goddess lingered in my nostrils – tasted like Katy Perry lip stain and wove a trail through the open buttons on her blouse, settling on a place entwined around our fingers – passed the empty stares. Sometimes a chill, colder then the city night, would creep across our shoulders – we’d lose it – in the heat of song, sang from the corners of every street that’d long for a fame that bellowed for God’s hand before the world’s end. And that was just fine, those endless sighs caught in a time too short to appreciate but long enough to know my life would never be the same without her.

On the drive back home, the Universe came crashing down on the roof of the car – the moon grew too big and we rode too far trying to lose a race against the lamp lights that led us home – to a time lapsed before our eyes and caught in the shadow of the life we left behind. She shook it off though – left rubber on the asphalt – a kiss on my hand – a twitch between my legs. When I collapsed on the couch, greeted by tiny hands and missed ‘mamas’ it still felt like my back was curled against the comfort of her care and soft into a King-sized mattress. Against the stillness of familiarity the city built itself into my dreams where I keep us there. Where I love her always.

© Audrey Rosengreen, 2018 – for my love

San Francisco
We took this picture together from the top of Lombard Street, San Francisco.