Waiting. - Alysia Harris and Jasmine Manns

I knew the kind of man I wanted to marry when I watched my father carry my grandfather's dead body down the steps.
My grandfather died in bed with my nana. She said she saw his soul soar right out of their attic window.
He left his body in that bed to remind her that even without breath she can still wake up to him.
She said he left silently, didn't want to wake her out of her sleep.
As he got ready to leave, kissed her on the cheek; gathered himself at the foot of the bed and didn't take anything with him - not even her smile.

The first time we met we stood on a winter beach.
Ankles deep in sand under a sky of unconstrained stars.
The second time it didn't work but I hope the third times the charm.
I've never had the audacity before now to wait for a heart
but you said "sleep on it."
so I curled up on your chest and learned patience.
Didn't want to let the weight of my tears wake your gorgeous and the mornings can be so mortal.
And you often have bad dreams, I've caught you mid-scream on a september night.
Swore then that I would kiss the fright from your voice, if only you would let me -
but that's your choice, my love.

I want to know there's a man in heaven waiting at the front gates.
Checking his breath, straightening his tie, waiting for me to arrive as beautiful as the day I was when he first died.
There is a chest waiting for my eyes to get heavy. There is someone out there finishing my sentences and the last of my laundry . . .
There is someone out there making room on his pillow for me, if not for my face at least for a poem or two.

You, are the first adult I ever dated.
The only man I've never had to lay before.
If anyone should ever ask, I would describe you as a wealth of sundays.
You gave me two feet of white cala lilies, made me feel like a bride that friday night.
You found treasure where thieves before you found trinkets. They used to gamble my bones for luck
but there is honesty in your touch from navel up.
I have sailed your spine as straight as a whistle and marveled at the industry of your mind.
The last time I saw you, you were just as beautiful as the first.
So don't blush.
Don't look away.
Just hold my gaze.

I sat on your window sill and I'm not sure if you were taking a picture of the new york city skyline
or me
But I'll take when I can get from you.

You are still the last person I kissed.


My grandfather left a dollar on the night stand.
He said "Gloria, go play these numbers for me.
Because this is my last dollar,
And you will always, always be my last dream."

life. life.

Today I counted my fingers.
for no other purpose
it was just a tick.
Something nervous to do to let out the anticipation.

I can weigh out what I ate today on a teacup saucer.
I'm not starving
but food seems like a great white elephant tug-a-waring across a line
and eating for comfort has gone out of style with me;
Grief has other forms.

I dreamt my sister died last night
choking to death on a dance club floor and no one heard her.
All day something has been off
And by dinner time I know that today is wrong.

"whats" and "why's" are only hanging
like noosed tree's in the wind
that sway and precariously begin to bump each other.
I think I'm beginning to lose my mind.

or only maybe it's that I hope to.
To bow out somewhat clumsy but with a little dignity
of to much to soon.
Life was never this hard.
And I care too much so not at all.