Spaceman
I hope my siblings bring their kids to visit. I want them to grow up knowing I love them so much that I wanted to show them the wild world outside of their box.
To take them on adventures. Show them they get to decide their own limits. Teach them something about the world they can take with them if they want.
To show them it’s ok to do scary things on purpose when you trust good people.
These days I remind me of when I was young Remember back when it was April? Before all of this had begun And it was me and you Just me and you, honeybee
Angrief
It just takes time.
Oh, wait, no.
Forgot to turn the page.
It also takes distance.
Plus long, restless naps,
staring accusingly at ceilings;
trying to force fast forward
on time’s passage.
It takes long hikes in the desert,
wondering if you should find a cave;
start yourself a new little life
far from everything that hurts.
You set out alone,
planning to scream from the mountaintop;
only to find yourself
weeping quietly at the peak.
It takes cozying up to the idea
of grinding your teeth in your sleep.
Of 4 in the mornings.
Smoking a bit much,
but somehow never enough.
Nothing is ever really enough
to balm that mystery ache
that never quite goes.
It takes crying in the bathroom.
While you cook dinner.
When you fold the socks.
Sometimes even openly in the street,
on vacation with friends
(one of whom you don’t know well enough yet),
all because you passed
an especially triggering mailbox.
But you wake the next morning,
a bit hungover.
Apologize for the burden
of your ugliest tears.
Stick your feet in the hotel pool
Ravage some beignets in your sunglasses
And begin to steel yourself
To catch the next one that falls.
I need to stop giving myself
The wrong idea.
I fear my feelings for you
are much too obvious.
I have this feeling, though,
like you wouldn’t hurt me?
It kills me we don’t get a chance
to find out.
I’m going to break a heart here
I just hope it’s mine.
I must have the wrong idea.
When it rains it pours
And it’s a torrential storm
When did this become the norm?
When I start to get exhausted
and I feel like my spirit might break;
I think of everything else I’ve been through,
and laugh at my own underestimation of myself.
By my nature, defying it
Where does the time go
When the future starts so slow
The world wears me down, like cold, abrasive wind.
I wonder if, one day, I’ll instead feel tumbled smooth.
I want to keep every memory of every story of us.
Even if it’s just for us.
I keep not quite being able to start the book.
So tired of holding all these words in my head.
There’s only ever been one thing worth writing about.
Erasure
How to describe it,
But to say I feel scribbled?
Uneven fits of pressure,
Stuck between pages.
Wrecked, abandoned draft;
Wrinkled up, tossed aside.
Lone spiral in the corner,
Ragged and smeared.
Checking for ink,
Close to running out.
The wreck of me washed up
along your warm, lonely shore.
Foil to your lush palms,
unruly vines tangle and search
until they’re wound right through.
We grow old like that,
Clinging together for support.
Both castaways still.
Not terrorized into silence,
But wrung dry of words.
Exhausted into temporary rest.
Just for a moment or two
Much to their dismay
(and eventual downfall),
I have far too much to do.
My soul refuses to stop the fight
To change this weary world.
Do you think you’re strong enough to pick me up?
We can’t do that. We can’t start doing that.
Why not?
Please don’t make me tell you that.
Because if I pick you up, I’m not going to want to put you back down.
The Hug Chaperone
My heart can’t take this. I can’t stay in character.
How's that for platonic? I've been practicing.
You’re so different than when I first started loving you.
That part never stopped for a second.
What if your idea of who I am is totally different than who I am?
Then I can't wait to meet you.
Red right balloons
Cold walk this morning,
smokin’ too much weed.
We gotta stop soon,
but we just can’t see;
another way through
this slave catching regime.
A “fucking bitch”, yeah,
They’ll have to come get me.
Nervous to turn in
for another night.
Stay stressing,
keep em guessing:
baby, fight or flight?
We all float down here;
will it be toward the light?
Or are those clown’s teeth?
We’ll see who takes a bite.
We’re going to spend the rest of our time
trying to get this all written down.
Queer Love Song Buzz Words
Strawberry. King. Summer. Kiss. Home. Always. Nothing. Bad. Shy. First. Touch. Tears. Blame. End. Lost. Don’t. Please. How? Cherry. Dream. Disco. Everything. First. Honey.
Activist meditation
Close your eyes.
Take a deep breath:
Inhale. Exhale.
Remember when the air
Tasted a bit cleaner.
Inhale nose. Exhale mouth.
Reflect on what they’ve done
To this gorgeous planet.
In. Out.
To these vulnerable bodies.
To these hopeful futures.
In and out.
An angry grin,
Brief but fierce.
One last inhale.
Open your eyes.
One day I wish for us to return
To a day without jump scares
Dare I say
Two in a row?
Lost alone
In crashing waves
Where my love
did our lighthouse go?
If you see something
I hope one day you ask your cousin,
(The quiet one
who always read
curled up on grandma’s chair),
how she’s been
since that breakup.
Was that the reason
for all that makeup;
the kind meant to hide,
Not to highlight?
Maybe then you’ll smile
at the downstairs neighbor
(the one you helped out
with her daughter once).
Ask her if your dogs
are too loud when they play.
Then you can kindly mention,
you hear the yelling
and the doors slam
When her husband gets home.
Then maybe you’ll invite
your coworker for coffee
after you catch her
wiping her eyes.
She’ll tell you the divorce
has been hard on her work;
her ex turning custody
into a war zone.
Much as he did
their 10 years together.
Being called little miss perfect by a bully,
when in reality I’m such a broken human.
I don’t keep stats on my friendships,
but glad to know you find comfort in winning
the competition you’re in with yourself.
Sometimes I get glimpses of who I might have been without abuse.
I’ll get in a mood and strike up a conversation with a stranger. Move confidently through a crowd in a way I thought forgotten. I remember that me from before.
But then I step back into the present, into this reality.
Poised sorority president replaced with diminutives and qualifyiers.
Always deferential, fawning, shrinking.
Before I called myself writer
I was just a girl taking notes.
A passionate student.
A yearbook contributor.
An attentive planner.
A journal collector.
A young reporter.
A poet in lover’s inboxes.
A top investigator.
(It’s amazing what you can find.)
If I could go back in time, I’d tell myself to save each memory; write it all down. Each word feels a step closer to the evidence I’ve been longing to make tangible all these years.
This is me trying now.
We can totally stop talkin about this now if you like but…
or we could not.
You could regale me with every detail
Because I want to hear it all.
Where do you see yourself
In 5 years? In 1?
I hope to be a lizard
Basking in the sun
Something I hope for you
Are doors that softly close.
Love that doesn’t harm,
and only gently grows.
Do I think of you?
Only in the way
I grind my teeth at night,
Or how I flinch
At the slightest sound.
You’re in the way
I’m always checking corners,
Noting exits,
Palming my knife.
In the way I spill my soul
Into protecting those like me.
In this haunted way,
I’ll always remember you.
Which would horrify me more to learn?
That you’d changed completely,
or not a bit?
The wreck of me washed up along your warm, lonely shore.
Foil to your lush palms, unruly vines tangle and search, til they wind right through.
We grow old that way, clung together through the tides.
Castaways still.
Rattling chains
How could I ever relax? You’ve always been my ghost. You know it’s when you're around me That I really fear the most?
Not because you moan or
Because I’ll wake here tomorrow,
But you’ll probably disappear
Making me feel like a crazy fool
For all of these damn years.
Unburied
When I realized my ancient iPod still held an impressive charge, I backed up all of my old songs.
Painstakingly collected from burned CDs, downloaded from Myspace profiles, borrowed flash drives, and blessed video converters.
I fought for these playlists. Now safe on a flash drive, hidden in my precious jar of things I’d grab in a fire.
When it all burns down and it’s only us left, for a moment at least, we can finally dance.