Bruises

A purple peach 
Pressed to her eye 
She retrieved an ice pack 
Drank the melting water

And climbed into her truck watching the rubber windshield wipers 
As they drank from the sky 
Her eye thumped 
Beneath notable shades

A piece of her nail 
Stuck in her tooth 
And a piece of hair was pulled to search for the obsession 
Beneath the gum line

She went to suck her diamond ring 
But it had melted in the rain 
She climbed from her truck 
And walked a gravel path

Retrieving a morbid sentiment from a throbbing head: 
“The winter trees are dying” 
Picking a cherry blossom to whisper: 
“The chimes of spring”

She knocked on his door 
And entered the tired room with its dust 
Handing over her spring, to the thing that made her old 
She crawled to bed and locked the door

May, 2002

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Childhood Fort

Running from shirts and mothers 
Calling for an evening bath 
We duck into the forest continuing 
Taciturn conversations with wax trees

Pressing our tiny nipples to their base 
Our laughter chars the pine’s cone

Make the fort from stick worms 
We seal it with a beaded pine needle door

Our toes are soaked from our own urine 
As we look back to see footprints stuck to the dew carpet

Limbs and feathers erect from the moss 
We line our fort with gravestone rocks

We douse paper flowers dyed with yolk centers 
To mourn the death of our forest fort

Jessie Day's questions:

I feel like these are repetetive. How could they express more inner emotion?
Are these interesting?
Do you understand what it is that I am trying to say?