N

N

Loneliness

is not

being

alone

in a room

But being

in a room

with others

with

nothing

to say

nothing

in common

nothing

nothing

noting

no thing

noth

not

non

no

n.

Lindsay Riggs Brown

Not Okay

Not Okay

I want

so badly

for you to tell me

you think I’m

really okay…

… i’m not sure you’re really okay.

Lindsay Riggs Brown

Venus

Venus

Open your mouth.

Until the pink inside

breaks through

with piano keys

tinkling out scales.

justice will prevail.

Open your mouth.

Speak up.

Shout out

tell it like you see

it.

Open your mouth.

Break out of the half shell

your long red locks

falling

over your sex.

Open your mouth.

Stand naked

in your alabaster skin

with the strength you

were born with.

You are perfection.

You are an art form.

You are a woman.

Lindsay Riggs Brown

Silent Thunder

Silent Thunder

a deflated balloon

hangs captive

its limp dirty cord

flapping silver mylar

against barren tree limb

its captor

rainstorm within

rainstorm without

it is silent here

if you don’t count

the howling wind

screaming sirens

or my thoughts

Lindsay Riggs Brown

With Apologies to Poor Will

With Apologies to Poor Will

My eyes are nothing like the sun.
My lips are neither coral
nor are they red.
My breast is nowhere near as white as snow
and time has all but faded the roses from my cheek.

My feet tread heavily upon the ground.
And though you say you love my voice,
I cannot in truth, carry a tune.

And yet by Heaven,
this morning,
upon waking,
you kissed my morning breath,
ran your fingers through
the black wires that grow on my head,
and you called me Goddess.

Lindsay Riggs Brown

Keeping Time

Keeping Time

In one rare moment
Everything came together.
July Fourth
Exploded outside my shaking windows.
Time finally caught up with itself.

There was nothing new
In that one rare moment.
Until everything became
Brand new again.

Lindsay Riggs Brown

Letting Go

Letting Go

On cool, Lilac scented mornings,
You ran behind me,
holding the back of my seat
while I pedaled,
Terrified, I screamed,
“DON’T LET GO!”
and you swore you never would.
But you did.

In warm summer’s drift,
we found
Indian arrowheads
and shards of cobalt sea glass
the color of your eyes.
By then I could ride alone.

In Indian Summer,
somehow,

you found a way
to let go of;
The Boston Red Sox; scotch on the rocks; salted peanuts;
and Jazz.

Lindsay Riggs Brown