Typo {poem}

Period
End of statement
Now you’re done – why
isn't it an exclamation
mark for the shock
of the thirteen year old first
time finding affected
panties. The young lady
her woman just discovered
now questioning moods
and pain
and gender.

Or for the relief and delight
of the teenager afraid
that one night
has forever changed her life.

Name it for the terror
of the hopeful mother
another month now
with no children
for her own. A question
mark filled with fear
and the always unanswered
why why not when how who
and ever.

Quotations
One opened – one closed
an eternity lying
in the space between
free to interpretation
filled perhaps with
how to begin
and end
explain to parents
and lover.

A comma, a semicolon
because it is just part of what
you have gone through
and by no means the end
of the line.

A colon for the list of agonies
joys and anxieties.

Name it anything
that allows something
in the space after.

Instead, a period
ending the statement
of women’s use
and life
all final now
and we are
done
Period.

by Alexa Reed

Linger {poem}

The machine by your bed
bleeps to tell me
you are alive.

I would not know
any other way. 

You are not living.

You linger on and on,
neverendingly
in this place.

You were always
a free spirit. Nothing
could ever hold you
down. Until you became
tethered by machines
instead of love.

Your hand rests at your side.
If I held it, would you feel?
If I kissed your lips,
would you ever know?
If only one thing 

can ever reach you again,
let it be that you are still, 

and ever my love.

But this form
lying in your bed,
tubes and machinery
an extension of itself, 

this is not you, 

and it is not living.

It only lingers,
as does my heart,
every beat praying
that this machine
will break down
before I do.

Written by Alexa Reed

{Creative Writing} Talking with Jesus

{Note}

It's been almost a year since I did creative writing. I feel numb without words to tell me what I'm going through. I went to a writing Meetup hoping to awaken the creativity. We had a prompt to write a story with a given first sentence. The next prompt was to use the words tea (or T, the subway system in Boston), dawn (or don), and clasp.

Here's my piece.

It was summer of 2005 when I first saw Jesus sitting in the sunshine of my backyard with a frizzy white hair in a one-inch ponytail and eating a tuna sandwich.

"Ahem," I said, staring him down with hands on my hips. "Shouldn't you be showing mercy to all animals?"

"It's Vegan. We're good." He offered the seat next to him, so I took it. He offered half of the sandwich and I took that too.

"So, the hairdo . . ."

"Hair don't," He corrected. "It gets all frizzy in the humidity and it went white from worry." He shook his head in dismay. "You humans."

"Do you blame us for all of your troubles?" I asked before swallowing the last of my sandwich. "If only some benevolent creator could have made us to be more -"

"Enough." He stopped me. "Free will and all that. Besides, creation was Dad's job."

"Whose idea was the free will?"

"Shut up," He mumbled.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"You. What's up?"

"Don't you know? Omniscient and all that?"

"Yeah, but I still like to hear from you."

"I lost faith in humanity."

"Too much free will?" He asked.

"Too much entitlement." I paused "And not enough caring."

"Hmm." He looked pensive, then reached into a bag beside him and pulled out a thermos with an image of dawn rising over a meadow.

"What's in there?"

"Raspberry leaf tea."

"My favorite," I said.

"What was that about entitlement again?" He mocked outrage, but poured some tea into the mug-shaped lid before I even thought of a response.

"You're a saint," I said.

"Ugh. This?" He started. I just giggled. The expression on his face was priceless.

"Whatever," I sipped the tea. "It's sweet. The tea and the gesture."

"When did you lose faith in humanity?"

"Do we have to?" I asked. He nodded. "Couldn't we just sit here and mock each other? It's more fun."

"You're using it to hide from the real issues."

"Duh." I rolled my eyes. "That's what it is for."

"You used to believe they'd get better. Redemption and stuff."

"I used to believe in you."

"How'd that work out?"

"When I stopped, you showed up with Vegan tuna and tea and I don't know what else."

"A listening ear."

"Does this mean that if I wait, all of humanity will show up with Vegan treats?"

"No. Most likely they'll write you off as a recluse snob. They'll say you've been grumpy and agitated and they won't want you around."

"Maybe I don't want them." I handed him back the mug-lid. "They're rather hard to please."

"The ones who are close to you just want what's best for you." He screwed the lid on the thermos, methodically clasping it shut.

"Yeah. Like I said."

"Why is that hard?"

"Because I don't know what's best for me."

"What makes you happy?" He asked.

"Using sarcasm to hide from what hurts me."

"Infuriating." He shook his head, white frizz shaking like the flakes in a snow globe. "You humans."

-------------

{Note}

I got a little too real amongst all that sarcastic talk with Jesus. I was trying valiantly to hide from it, but valiance only carries one so far. As for the issues that I am hiding from, those are between me and The Lord. And I'm not sure I believe in Him. Or you. Or me.