Billie was Savannah Rouge
in the summer of '96.

Delicately curled hair,
wife beater worn over black bra,
frayed edge jeans and bare feet

she set the world on fire
with her m a g n e t i c innocence.

Black inked butterfly tattooed high upon her back,
Billie was a dreamer.

and left those boys
kneeling endlessly on blacktopped roads
eternal devotion they swore
in exchange for one
berry flavored
full lipped
sun spinning
kiss.

Billie was Savannah Rouge
in the summer of '96.

[ three days spent bleeding only to find the skin never fully drained.]



Andrea was Sangria Creme
the day she held her first baby

a tiny hunter, he wept until
the freckles of her arms embraced him,
nuzzled him gently against her breast.

Andrea, who thought she'd never find happiness,
much less feel her belly

b r e a t h e

with two babies
by the winter of '99

has discovered the magic
of oatmeal flavored
good morning kisses
and vanilla custard smiles.

Andrea was Sangria Creme
the day she held
her first creation.



Becky is Copper Sunset.

Handmade patchwork dress,
ink trails on her thigh,
she carries a little too much
of everyone with her.

By the mud on her hem,
near the butterfly applique,
when the moon is in
the just right rotation

you can glimpse the faint outline
of her first, last, and every
in between love.

Becky is a dreamer.

and dries delicate flowers
dainty red berries
the jewels of each season
because summer is something
she cannot keep.

when the breaths of old spirits
hum a little too close
and shoulders break
heavy with the weight of worn out dreams,

Becky is Copper Sunset.

[ it's a little more than everything.
a little less than nothing. ]


Amusing, how in those moments
when either intoxicated by life
or broken by the detail

we have somehow, silently
learned to find a hue
matching the intensity

of our blood.