Tag: poem

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

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Moon

treadmills,

racing thoughts


aware of impending loss,

hearts pump at their own pace,

but face to face

I forget to

slow

gentle

patient

in the psych ward

with grip socks

a rite of passage


you remind me of the moon,

sliver in a limitless sky,

universe you don’t share


is it me

or the certainty of an end,

good enough to pretend

finite enough to forget


Ruminating reflection

of the sea and the earth

and me,

now stuck on a memory

of collecting

cow bones

and begging the cops

to arrest that man,

faceless killer

with bones

like those I held


but they tell me to be a good girl

men always tell me to be a good girl


do not love me,

they say,

do not love me,

but stay

until you love

nothing but the moon



4/12/23

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Elements

Michigan tumbleweed,

litter and nettle bouncing

in the gale,

pale and unassuming

an equal,

born of trash

and happenstance

windows down,

nose to the ground,

I forget that I ever knew

anything but the hunt

when will I

surrender to the elements,

god and evolution and love and science

and remember

what it is to be flesh

and pleasure and science and love and god,

what it is to feel

powerless

in the presence of

man,

beautiful man,

who bathes me in laughter,

beautiful enough

to forget the scent I’m after

But I don’t forget



03-25-23

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Open Air

when I shower

I reread us

like a bedtime story

I regret nothing

I love you now

as I have always loved you

and I love him,

the man who is

consistent and distant,

like me

always chasing

open air

he is a poem

you are a chapter

and I am exhausted

I no longer need

words of affirmation

or attention

I need nourishment

I need rest

Eventually the sky

will crack itself in two

on a stormy night

and light me on fire

when I’m not looking

but for now,

love me

and

everyone

and

no one

forever


as I love you



02-27-23

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Forgiveness


Always under construction


I don’t forget what

roads I have taken

in the night, when lights

from passing cars 

strangled the fog

into misshapen dew

and blinded me with 

abstract landmarks


Forgiveness is a storm 

you feel the hairs on your arms dance

when you’re too close to the fence

you can’t stay on it forever

but you stay frozen as

winds destroy 

what’s left of your safe space


Do you want to 

build a home

or a bomb shelter



11/24/22

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Unfettered


My dog doesn’t like jazz

He paints his disapproval 

with exasperated sighs of

oil black and egg white

I love these quiet nights

spent with brass ballads

In my mind,

my feet are swinging

through the cosmos

as time goes by

I am a hopeless romantic,

hopelessly falling back into

my own arms

I always catch me

I light the right candles

and choose the right songs

I prefer my company 

and the shadow

of a dream where

my dualistic dog

takes off running toward the pines

whenever he hears the sound of trumpets

Someday, 

I will shuffle around a hardwood floor

that I sanded myself

and remember all of the times

I denied myself a dance

because a man wouldn’t join me

Someday,

I’m going to smoke

every cigarette I once craved

and light my own house on fire 

with the feelings I smothered

for someone else’s comfort

Imagine,

Billie’s voice leaking

through wooded windows

and the silhouette of

my naked, elderly body

Finally as unfettered

and unusual 

as my naked spirit



11/14/22

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Remember Me


In the end we are water,

moving with air,

carving our bodies into earth

Remember me,

we say,

but there is no way

to forget the shape of a river

Do you think of me when

you build dams

and wipe your hands

of the soil that made you?


I will think of you

someday,

away from false worlds

where we work like ants

under magnifying glasses

Someday,

the sun’s rays

won’t burn us,

but warm us from the porch

as we watch the horizon melt

behind the hills



11/3/22


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Violence

Superior is violent 

like the sea 

like me

Rocks aren’t as welcoming

as sand

But I stand here,

unrelenting

I am at peace

with violence

There is nothing except

a wind that rips through skin

with the promise of winter

Wolves stalk the neighbor’s cat

under a Pisces moon 

while I eavesdrop on hushed voices

At the picnic table,

a man regurgitates Hemingway–

a parrot in the land of eagles

Fireplaces and log cabins

are romantic to tourists,

but this place is a battered heart

and I know its pulse


I am at peace 

with silence


9/21/22

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Water

There are no returns

We spend hours shaping

ourselves only to fit

somewhere else

I asked my ancestors

to send me a feather

if I should leave you

I stepped on an ant hill

in the cemetery 

and had to shake my shoes

next to a blue feather

But blue is the color of harmony

so I decided to stay,

every day harder than the last,

I grow crass and bitter

as bark on the silver maple

near the porch

where we used to laugh

You laughed today,

but it was with her

I don’t laugh anymore

you never let me with another man

so I tell you I hate

the way she makes you wheeze

I am never in on the joke

I am often the punchline-

an outward gesture of devotion,

tardy efforts to patch leaks

in a sinking ship-

I crossed state lines

and landmines

to be with you

but there were always others

I never jumped ship 

I always thought you would wake at the wheel

before letting me drown

Now I only trust water

08-15-22

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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


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