A poem comes to her
First it knocks on the door of her mind
Checking to see if she’s home
Rest his head on the sheets of her thighs
Uses a black finger as pen to entice her with rhymes
He caresses her gently
His verses soft like the blanket of her hair
His breath is warm
He doesn’t move
Instead he waits
He watches for her reaction
He wants her to escape
And suddenly she feels his burn
She shivers
She gasps
She exhales
She wants him to stay there
Yeah…
He is inside of her
Swimming in her thoughts
She pronounce his words accordingly
Rain starts to pour
Pounding on her skin
She opens her mouth
Welcomes water in her soul
Washing away the ashes she once stored as debris
© 2006 by Cathy Delaleu

Your tongue’s protrusion coiled groove theory
Gave me a standing ovation
Locked between sweet cookie dough sheets of ecstasy
Yes, I inhaled your scent of midnight rain
Smothered in firm pillows with mellow textual messages
Reminding me of the highest mountain of North Africa
Where I’ve climbed on foot
You gave savvy praise to my desert land
Then I woke up
Feeling a cold space
I am missing you…
© 2006 by Cathy Delaleu

JULY 2006 FRIED CHICKEN AND HOME MADE BISCUITS:

Yeah, that's what I wish I had this long weekend but instead I ordered myself some Haitian food and vegged at home. My weekend was a quiet one. I did nothing exciting besides watching TV and unpacking. I will say it again, I AM LOVING MY NEW PLACE. The painter is starting with the kitchen and bathroom today, so when I get home from work I will find my kitchen walls in tangerine and the bathroom will be a mustard color. The electrician whom I met yesterday is a cutie and he is also stopping by today to install the ceiling fan in my bedroom. I have so many ideas to embellish the place. I'm glad my landlord has allowed me to paint the place the way I like it. I look forward to entertaining friends and family with my cooking, paintings and poetry...it's been too long. For you to understand why I'm so thrilled about my new place, let me start from the beginning. Prior to moving, I lived in someone's basement for four years (damn, I can't believe it's been this long).

Yes, I lived four years in a dark hole where the walls were all made of wood that's why it was hard to see or feel the outside light on my face. It was depressing. I kept telling myself I will move out soon, but before I knew it four years flew by. The landlord and her family were a loud bunch, a bit too ghetto for my taste. Their washing machine was downstairs across from my bathroom so you can imagine the frustration. They did their laundry at least four times a week, you could hear them running up and down the stairs from their apartment to the basement. It irritated the hell out of me hearing the door upstairs slamming all the time and people chatting. They had traffic of visitors coming in and out of their place like a convenient store.

I can't believe how I still managed to focus on my writing with all their distractions and what I put up with should have made me bounce a long time ago.

For example, I came home one day to found a black crow flying around my place. It came from a hole inside the boiler room and of course the landlord sent her husband to get rid of the ugly bird. Also, whenever it rained outside, the water would crawl in through the front and backyard door, all the time I had to dry the water with towels and a mop. Another wonderful experience, I came home one day and was cleaning my bedroom, putting my clothes away. When I lifted my pair of jeans I had on the bed it started to wiggle. I screamed and threw it on the floor, I didn't know what the hell it was. I dialed the landlord's number and told her something is moving inside my jeans, yeah I know, it sounds funny, lol. When I told her this she was confused. She came right downstairs with her husband and with a broom. My jeans was jiggling on the floor so they could see with their own eyes I wasn't bluffing. Her husband was poking the broom on my jeans and she asked me if they can use my 10 pound weights to slam on it. I was guessing it must be possum, I know it couldn't be another crow because the landlord covered the hole we found in the boiler room. I gave her husband my dumbbell and after pounding it four times on the jeans, the wiggling stopped. I gave him a trash bag and he use the broom like a shovel. After shaking off the jeans inside the trash bad, we found a dead fat squirrel.

I've also experienced water leaking from the kitchen's ceiling, clogged water in the shower, flying nasty black bugs which were mistaken for termites and many more interesting memories from my old place. Oh yeah, how about the time when the landlord showed up at my place with her nephew (unannounced). She was trying to hook me up with him. The guy was at least 5'6 with a beer gutt and he looked old (late forties). I was still in my pj's with hair sticking out like Miss Shaka Zulu. I was so pissed at her. I never said I desired to be part of her hillbilly family. Then she had the audacity to give him my home number without my permission so the guy called me that same day asking me out on a date, I turned him down. There is more but I won't bore you with any further details. Let's just say I'll be making love to my new home sweet home and never will look back. I think the saying is true: Good things comes to those who wait.

I am calm. I am at peace. I am loving my space.