Violations of Grammar

When I'm not writing blogs, I write poetry. Here's one I wrote over the winter, which feels like it has a touch of dharma in it. Enjoy.


Violations of Grammar


standing at a bus stop, eyes closed, dreaming of a small, dead girl

as the frigid wind slips beneath the shelter, under her skirt

never mind that she hasn’t considered herself “sexy” for years,

do you remember the time? she says , to me, to herself, to no one

the sound of a car horn blaring in front of us, driver slamming

his hands on the wheel, mouth wide open, but still going nowhere–

barely a pause, and i hear her say like it was yesterday, yesterday,

her y’s sliding into her s’s, r’s touching the frosted glass

with her nose, fingers twitching in their little green mittens,

but still no bus, not even far up the road, where the easing down

becomes, for a moment, a hill, just enough of one to break

the crosswinds, slow most of the traffic, make you think twice

before walking up it after the snow has come, not

that it matters, she suddenly says, breaking the silence again,

as if to take back the sighs of the previous statement,

or somehow make it seem a little less obvious

how this world can break a woman, leave her stranded

in stories we never meant in the goodness of our hearts

to have come into being, but somewhere along the way, through

sheer will, and violations of grammar, ended up telling anyway.