Pain

I’m waiting on the ash at the tip of the cigarette To flake away.   I was so many things. I was a person.   “I’m sorry.” “That wasn’t okay.” “I overreacted.” “No… that wasn’t normal.” “I know. Why are you still with me?”   I asked for your help When my heart fluttered to…

Run

I thought you’d want to read my poetry To learn about me: My superficial thoughts and desires. Yet all you had to learn from me Was from that desire alone. That I wanted you to know me. I wanted you to love me. I wanted you to so desperately pick up my broken pieces And…

i am woman

Yes, I am a woman, Which inherently means I overreact. To undone dishes, Smelly sheets, And cold food.   Yet, As your woman, I should have overreacted To the hair band in your new car That did not belong to me.

The Caffeinated Queen

She shook hands with the men in ties And her fingers shook over the corners of her papers. Her hair was mostly done Just as her trousers mostly fit. She lived in the county but spent her days clacking on the cement Of the city’s dance floor. The lights, the shopping, the glamour: All something…

Names and Nature (I did not return the love you gave me)

I did not return the love you gave to me. When the leaves fell from the trees I tried to tape them back onto the branches. I stumbled anxiously into the cafe Where they now know my name And I’d rest easy on my lunch break away from everyone. I hid for a moment To…

Sand and Synthetic Cotton Fields

I heard your voice in the thunder. I lay on my bones underneath the faraway suns and moons as they watched from above. I heard the leaves bid me to sleep; I heard the waves drown out your screams. And though I stayed awake the night, I felt a Woman hold me until morning, Heard…

Natural Disasters

The cobwebs are swallowing me whole today. The fitted sheets with grey textile Come loose on the bed and I’m knotted in them in the morning. My foot is stuck in the polyester thread. It is the morning And the white light pounds through the window And demands to be seen. It looks beautiful And…

Mother

No room left for my mother. She calls me from a far off shore, Says I don’t even know you anymore. And yet her fingers play keyboard in the breeze, Waving hello to welcome me home. I wave goodbye back. I’m caught up in the ocean that I’ve conjured up, A typhoon singing in the…

I Owe No Explanation but Here it is…

I called it home, Took off my shoes then tiptoed to the frosted sheets where the winter air crystalized around where you lay. And so it goes, The cold that echoes the freezing Then shattering Of the plates in the kitchen and the heartbeat therin. A cat purring in the windowsill, Drunk off the shimmering…

Ensemble

There’s you strumming your musky guitar Across a velveteen couch. You are only a few chipped and painted fingers away, Grazing your hand over and over again With the same pattern You play Every Sunday. I do not feel the earthquakes on the couch, And I cannot hear the earth clattering over your Husky voice….