Safety

Drown me,

April rain,

push me under

the unbearable lightness of

wait, what if

I am enough,

gap-toothed wonder

pushed under

tight lips with words

cascading first

like tea, hot then cold,

sweet then bold

vanilla mouth full of protest

Drown me,

April rain,

in River Rat Alley,

next to soft bellies

swollen with ketchup

and white bread

wait, what if

I am full

of what could have been

and not what is happening,

no more beach bottles

and backroads

no more screenshots

and St. Augustine shells

no more garter snakes

and chocolate eggs,

midnight philosophies

and morning sex

Drown me,

April rain

push me under

the stained sheets

and tell me it was all worth it

the misplaced hope, the shower tears,

the belly laughs and COVID years

the sad song commute,

and the way I still carry

fragments of Hollywood’s imagination

Drown me,

April rain

Fill my lungs with something

lighter than loss

Fill them finally

with safety

05-01-23

Tight Connection to His Heart

I knew I was

stationed somewhere

between another flight

and a Florida beach

but to find out

every moment is shared

with a tight connection in Philly

a broken one in Cali

and a drunk one in Australia

drains the hourglass sand

back to the gulf

we are all lost boys

looking for our mothers

some lost boys

keep looking

even when they have them

but I am the womb

I am the take off

and the final destination

there are no connections

in darkness

and I thank my sisters

for showing me the light

08/04/22

August 5, 2022 0

Space

I am porous

I lose pieces of me

when I forget to say

I love you,

little girl

I expect others to

fill my spaces,

like planets spinning,

synchronized in iridescence

But men are meteors

leaving debris

or, simply leaving,

in search of something

bigger

better

untouched

There’s more impact that way

Meteors are not aimless

but I have no sense of direction

I wish I was a satellite

In the end,

all that’s left

Is empty space

Someday, I will learn to

fill it with I love you,

little girl

7-3-22

Periphery

Tired

the kind of tired

where even your ribs ache

from holding it in

I breeze through a cemetery

where dandelions push

their blonde heads

toward the sun

to remind us

that life goes on

Even though I am not ready to move on

I have already watched you fade

into the old you and grieved

at the foot of a stranger’s plot

I am tired of losing you

So I leave you here, where I can visit

and remember the times when your eyes

kept me in focus

and forget the times when

they pushed me

into the periphery

5-10-20

Blog at WordPress.com.