Flutter

December 2015

One good thing that my dad passed on to me was long eyelashes

You liked them too

When you cupped your hands

To catch my melting face,

Your thumbs would trace the wings that kept me up

The wings that kept me up when you left

And the ones that caressed your cheek

When you provided them with a four-letter landing pad

But now you’re gone again

My eyes have shut

And I’m ripping out my eyelashes

Hoping for some chance

That things will change

But I can’t even blow them away

Because you used my last breath

To whisper words in her ear

If He’s Mean to You It Means He Likes You

August 2016

He squeezed it on your head, but it’s just glue.

A hot shower will wipe your tears, too.

Get on the bus or you’ll be late for school.

I promise that you’re his special jewel.

If he’s strict it means he cares for you

And he’ll protect you from another man’s view.

Remember you’re his jewel even if he’s jealous.

Plus he has a reason not to trust you around other fellas.

If he yells at you it means he values communication.

Where are your manners and appreciation?

He’s trying to make you understand

What it really means to be loved by a man.

If he grabs you it means he holds you highly.

With those marks you should wear some sleeves.

Go ahead and look for one in your drawers,

Just don’t mind the panties that aren’t yours.

If he hits you it means you’re worth fighting for,

So come on up, let’s get you off the floor.

It’s just one of his moods, it’s nothing new.

Remember I once said, “If he’s abusive it means he loves you.”

Where do we draw the line between playful and aggressive?

We are teaching our girls to believe that love is oppressive.

The boy who throws paper

Soon becomes the shaper

Of a little girl’s perception

Of what it means to show affection.

And when black and white blend into gray

Our poor little girl will never see color the same way.

White Knuckles

December 2015

We started by shutting the windows.

The sun gleamed and the sky was clear,

But we knew what was coming.

My mother sat by the window and waited,

Ready for the sky to come plummeting down

And crush the walls around us.

Sure enough,

Trees shivered and shadows scuttled away

As a charcoal cloud came looming overhead.

My mother clenched her eyes shut,

But when they cracked open,

The only drops that fell came from her own eyes.

A Seven Day Heartbreak - an Aubade

October 2019

On the first day, I was struck.

Not by Him but by a confused opponent.

Caught in the floundering, all I could see was

a fire-orange streetlight.

Then I felt Him.

I don’t know what part of me

felt what part of Him,

but I felt Him as I fell

through grey waters of green moss.

The salt jabbed at my throat.

On the second day, I was loved.

It was only on this day,

though certainty remained a luxury.

He showed me light,

and how the sun glowed the warmest

and most beautifully

as it left.

On the third day, I was stuck.

He revealed Himself, a parrot,

with no thought of his own.

I envied the animals we saw

at the zoo, for only having known

a life in captivity.

For having a life for death,

and death alone.

On the fourth day, I was fucked.

It was a beautiful fucking,

only as allowed by the withering of time.

The remnants of the arched shivers

have turned into aftershocks of shudders.

My limbs, once a loose street-corner night,

now restrict into shadows at the sight of Him.

On the fifth day, I was shunned.

I fell through staircases that surrounded me.

There were no landings for rest.

Small windows allowed light, but

all that could be seen through them were

Scowling faces. Scolding faces. “You’re-scum” faces.

Mirrors were also there but they

were no option for consolation. 

On the sixth day, I was gone.

I was only my breath.

A heat source.

A cloud of condensation

killed instantly

by stinging cold.

The seventh day was a naive day.

I rose tentatively, unfamiliar with

feeling my lungs full of air.

I moved toward a mirror and a

blurred girl faced me. Her eyes

resembled tulips, slits framed by 

delicate petals. They presented

A curiosity of the desperate sort.

I allowed Her, legs fumbling,

to come to me. I swayed with Her

until dawn, feeling her juts of silk

within my crossed arms. Hard buds

softened under my fingers,

a release. She, as silent as I,

dissolved into me

when tears ceased to fall.

Fussy - a Sonnet

December 2019

Tonight I feel like crying

In a desperate sort of way

Like a dog at the door whining

For its owner to come back and play.

Nothing feels wrong,

My breath just won’t stay straight

Because my mind is filled with her song

One that I love to hate.

Her soft kiss against the tang of liquor

Was the duo that left a haze in my eyes.

It’s been some time since I’ve thought of her

But my reaction would read otherwise.

If only the world were as fair as her hair,

She would be here, or maybe I there.

Amidst a Grand Memory

November 2019

As I captured my last moments amidst a grand memory

I wished I could map her like a planned memory.

My memory soon lost her, my fair, grand melody.

Left to only lust for her with no remedy,

for the luster she left with each step in her trace

gave me only a “What for?” and a tingle on my face.

Medicine

December 2015

“Smile big, give them a grin

Shoulders back and tilt your chin

Don’t look back at where you’ve been

You can’t do that once you begin

But wait a moment! Come back in!

You forgot your medicine.”

I fight as it goes down, but it wins

And I don’t wait long before it kicks in

I start to feel it under my skin

I’m stuck! I’m stuck! By a thousand pins

I start to taste the taste of gin

No, it’s blood and metal tin

I start to smell my first sin

When I dug God out of my skin

I start to see, but faces spin

I’m still to them, but not within

I start to hear an awful din

But then they play their violins

“Look at her, so nice and thin”

My lungs collapse under their rolling pin

They knock and knock, “Let us in”

But I already took my medicine

Facades - a Sestina

October 2019

As I thought it a shame, the beauty of the cathedral,

Nothing haunted me as much as its hold.

My father only sang when my position was fetal,

My mother prayed each time the bell tolled.

Nothing haunted me as much as its hold

As it conducted less good than it did evil.

My mother prayed each time the bell tolled.

The dim haze of refusal would prove to be lethal.

As it conducted less good than it did evil,

Those who trusted were only to be controlled.

The dim haze of refusal would prove to be lethal.

I hoped they would soon return from gold.

I will find my path however it may fold.

My father only sang when my position was fetal.

Never did I wish to walk through the threshold,

As I thought it a shame, the beauty of the cathedral.

Hindsight - a Haiku

October 2019

Icicles glare at

The warmth that used to be theirs

And it boils her mind

Omens - a Haiku

October 2019

Rose-tinted glasses

Make the world bleed

When the sun falls dull

Leave - a Haiku

October 2019

His rusting steps were

Followed by the tilting sun

As it fell for fall

Swept Away - a Villanelle

October 2019

I wonder how lovely it must be

to have the will to live long enough to own a yard,

and to only worry about the trees.

How are they growing? Are there bees?

Thoughts always seem to bombard

me about how lovely it must be.

I would lay out, listening to the waves of leaves,

only interrupted by my St. Bernard

worrying about the bone he hid by the trees.

Flowers would overwhelm the land, in bloom constantly,

like a scene on a postcard

of how lovely it must be

to live somewhere so carefree.

Somewhere where life is never hard,

where you only have to worry about the trees.

When the night sky moves in with the sea

and fireflies light the boulevard

I’ll know how lovely it must be

to only have to worry about the trees.

Cold Feet

January 2016

You make me feel like I’m walking on a cloud

It’s romantic, right?

Walking on a cloud

Being that free

But I’m not free at all

You bring me up and up

So high that the lack of oxygen makes my mind get hazy

And I can’t tell if what I’m seeing is real

Or if it’s what I just want to see

And quite frankly, I don’t even know what I’m saying right now

But all I know is that the way the sun is shining from behind you makes you look like heaven

And with the power you have over me

You could just as well be the devil

I wouldn’t even know it

I just keep moving my feet closer to you

Hell, I can’t even feel my feet

Your presence makes them so cold

And maybe that’s why it feels like I’m on a cloud

To Whom It May Concern

December 2015

I just wanted to get a few things out of the dark before we start

And this is the part that’s a little hard

A fair disclaimer to whoever you are

I hope that my requests aren’t too large

But nevertheless, I’ll embark

Do you see this mark?

I’ve been scarred

But I’m not quite starved

Because I still have a spark

Somewhere deep in my forested heart

I’ve saved it for whomever you are

In hopes that you see my arms as a work of art

And give me the will to live long enough to have my own yard

I hope you will be smart and be my guard

Because if you are not careful and woo me with charm

That little spark will leave my bark charred

But most of all, I hope that we meet soon and you are not far

Or maybe we are already mere inches apart

Banks

December 2015

Banks are supposed to be for things that people fear losing

But you lock your up so tightly that the contents are bruising

Sometimes I try to take a glimpse inside

But the gates drop and darken your eyes

It makes it harder for me to tell

Which part of you is locked up within your cell

I think about giving up my search for a key

Every time your walls reject my company

But I won’t stop believing you are a liar

Because you are held in a blood bank and I am a vampire