Feeling Blue

I want to use words like cerulian
Because I feel fancy when I do
But you and I both know
That what I really mean is blue
This is poetry for me
Finding clever in mundane
So I'll share my favorite place
By way of favorite things
TARDIS teapot and string of
Lights in the hall
My favorite shirt with little
Straps and a bouncy flow and
Flowers as colorful as the place
I am dreaming of today
The necklace my husband
Bought because he knows my
Favorite stone is turquoise
A drink with Hawai'i in
Its name. And reliably blue.
The active light on my
Chargers I'll take
When next we go
Seems like never
Living in between
But 8 years is not never
It is finite, so there is hope
The day will come again
I see the beautiful blue
Of sky and sea as if
I were still there
Maybe we never left
In an alternate universe, we live
Out our days among
Sticky breezes and sparkling sands
For now, these blues -- street
signs, his shirt, my debit
cards -- remind me where I am
~ Amber Keating

Misplaced

I have lost so many things in this life. Phone, keys (why can't I keep track of keys?), pens, emails, texts, boyfriends, books, clothes, girlfriends, laughter, sleep. I could count my years by what I've lost. They are numerous, yet less painful by far than losing you. Though really I'm not sure I ever had you. Ever knew you. Did you know me? Did you care? You gave me body and breath. These dark chocolate eyes, bubbling laugh, and milkwhite skin. A dimple just there when I smile. Oh you stole that smile so many times.  See what you made me do? No. Never. Not anything will you be. Were you jealous? I know your own life was so hard and empty. It left your heart the same. You rejoiced when I left. Reveled in finding my car still half full of my things, stealing it away under cover of creeping fog. There was nothing the police could do. It was in both our names. So many things I never saw again, thanks to you. The quilt Grandma made. The doll bed Dad made. Things handcrafted just for me, when you couldn't be bothered to keep a baby book. There were more losses. Fear. Over shoulder looking. Caring for everyone but me. Jumping to please. The fake smile saying I was fine when I was anything but. They took longer to lose, decades. When the facade of your love was gone in an instant. Overnight and over years, I was changed. But one thing I am glad of, I could never lose me.
© Amber Keating, 04.02.18

Singing and Searching

I am from mix tapes, from Barbies, and pegged jeans.

I am from the nation's breadbasket, alive with color and blossoming with migrant farm workers.

I am from the orange groves, the endless sea of corn and cotton.

I am from weekends of slowcooked pasta sauce and alcoholism, from Cora and Lucretia and the Ross Family Clan.

I am from boisterous singing and always searching for things to fix.

From you'll never amount to anything and I'm your mother I'll abuse you if I want..

I am from Maranatha charismatics and disciplined Methodists.

I'm from a cracked golden center, people who hid faerie wings on trips through Ellis Island, from homemade Chicken Diablo and canned Beefaroni.

From women with perfect coiffures and screaming matches when they'd drink too much, from Dad's Bible stories, swamp cooler lullabies, and Sock of the Month Club.

I am from photographs torn in anger, as broken as our hearts that may never heal, from antiques piled behind polished wood and glass, from stories we've heard a thousand times and will beg to hear again.

Palm Springs

My skin is crackling
We laugh because
No one ever believes
"It's a dry heat"
95 in March feels
Transcendant
Though I worry
This  porcelain
skin will blind
someone
Better than cracked
Leather, I suppose
As a wrinkled woman
Walks by, cigarette
Balancing just so
The waiter's laughter
Comingles with ours
He remembers us
From nearly four
Months ago
Impressive
These connections
We've created in our
Desert oasis
My skin pulls as
I leave the seat
Sated and smiling
Back into the heat
~ ©Amber Keating, 03.31.18

Stellium

Times New Roman
Points her way
Plodding or plotting
It's never clear which
No doubt both
As with most things
Find the line where
Desired meets required
We're all walking that
Thin blade
Even now awaiting
The eventual immolation
Brisé chassé
In turnout gear
Pirouette evasion
Of supernova
Spinning or slipping
I am eviscerated
Bowels collapsing
Into singularity
Can it be delicate
This endless gravity
Exquisite tension
She falls back into orbit
Baptizing fire with flood
Begin again
Tango
Jitterbug
Disco
All we know
Is she brings a heavy heart
And I bring the steel toes

©Amber Keating, 03.29.18

Soup

A tweet about cold weather and soup became today's haiku.

~~~~~~~~~~

It's cold in L.A.
Let's have soup. Steaming, slurping
Joy, no fear... for now.

© Amber Keating, 03.19.18

Wasteland

Fear needs to back the fuck up.
It's everywhere these days and
I have lived long enough with
Dread as my constant. Whispering
nightmares in my ear with every
step. If they are laughing it must
be at me. All sweet moments
Become bleak desert. Parched,
Searching, misled by mirages.
Dark insinuations, he stops me
From connecting. Clamps off
Life force until my withered bones
Scatter in the desert dust. Now that
Fear is more stranger than sidekick
My biggest fear is circling back
To that wasteland. How do I keep
Its vultures from ripping my newly
Quickened flesh? My body no
Longer belongs to fear. I fear being
Unable to keep it that way.

© Amber Keating, 03.16.18