the heart laid bare

Archive

No Apology
the thunder
tinder
VERBAL PORTRAIT OF A CAT OWNER
critical shortage
the sky we thought we knew
CIRCA SOLEM
almanac
baby
dearest orlando
FIVE MONTHS
A LETTER TO THE UNDESERVING
cactus heart
would we
the fall of giants
paradise lost
Dad
after you've gone
time
a smile from the eyes
trepidation
why so cold
fix this
swallow me
untitled 8
insular
cry alone
robin
quicksand
laces
D.I.S.C.
stripped
waving goodbye
your open eyes
enemy within
mortal
untitled 4
sleepless
outsider
untitled 9
come dream with me
in the face of adversity
one word
the dark of the night
untouchable
one and one makes two
you burn me
see me
this shaken core
my lover
helen
my room
his words
foolish
rita
chalk drawings
the longest night
stupid skeleton
CLOTHES MAKETH
FIRST LASTS
STELLAR
TODAY
I WATCHED A MAN DIE TODAY
THREE WEEKS
this slippery slope
untitled 5
Arrows
First Kiss
The Talk Of Love
Nicotine
Blackout

CLOTHES MAKETH

Hello, I’m naked.
But I’m not the kind you want to see.
It’s just me here, calling out to an empty room.
 
Did you ever go naked?
Did you walk down a hallway shedding your layers one by one
Until you had no more to shed
And stood blinking in the harsh sunlight
Exposed and shivering?
I’ve been there too.
I’m there right now.
You strip back the layers of who you used to be;
The expectations,
The failures.
The lies you told to be someone you never were.
And you stand there in your bones
Looking for something new to put on and wear until it becomes a part of you.
Go ahead.
Twirl in your new finery.
Let it settle on your shoulders.
Until crisp becomes comfort,
Until crease becomes crumple.
Be as warm or cool as you like.
 
Three decades to peel away these layers,
To steam the wallpaper back to bare plaster.
To scrub away the trends and shades and patterns
That over the years I have applied like bandages
Hoping they would fit.
You might think me foolish,
And I suppose I am,
That it has taken me so very long
To undress
And lift my eyes to meet the scrutiny of others,
Challenging with a proud tilt of my chin
The suit that they have crammed me into.
To step out of my front door
Naked.

© mjc 20 August 2015

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Biography

Daughter, sister, aunt, godmother, friend, public servant; self-confessed hermit, confirmed cat person, sporadic baker, irreformable yarncrafter, voracious reader; occasional wit, voluble shower vocalist, frequent sacrifice on the altar of brain-to-mouth filter fails, random shit-slinger, unrepentant purveyor of puns and dad jokes, writer and poet.

I have always lived by the theory that no matter what you do for a living - if you are compelled to write, if you wake up in the night to scrawl the contents of your dreams on a notebook beside the bed, if no event in your life seems complete without you recording it, if you are drawn to comment upon the world - then you are a writer.

These are my words.