Growing up I often heard things like, “you are too emotional”, “people that think that way are fools”, “you have no sense of humor”, and “just be happy and things will turn around.” I heard it so often that sometimes I say these graceless things to myself, and that’s where the real work remains. Sound …
I am unexpected. I am an out of wedlock pregnancy that solidified a union. I am a gentle kick inside my mother’s womb on her wedding day. I am the stiff upper lip as the word divorce falls upon me, wide eyed and stoic. I am a child silently hovering in the garage watching my …
Imagine the muffled sounds Of a seed weeping Begging the rain to stop At 10cm no mother Wishes death upon her baby But the sound of her tears Are the same It is the bursting in the rainstorm That brings forth new life The seed knows not what is coming And waters herself. Not believing …
Like seasons we drift closerthen split.A cold front blows through middayand I didn’t pack a coat.Turning to face the sun,I realize blood is not thicker than water.for your presence leaves me shivering,amphibian and cold. Of all the rooms we sharedthe womb was my favorite.Our starting line was the same,but where we finish will be miles …
Grief is not limited to the months After funerals. The psychic corpses that litter my mind outweigh the physical corpses I have held in my hands. These corpses can include — Letting go of the sister I always wanted First years of life stolen by depression No soft hands on my back as a child …
There are but 2 people with whom I trust my darkness. When I am in that fitful state I have come to know As I thumb through that list Looking for someone to call My name does not appear. The I that is entangled In he said/she said, Judgment, Loneliness, 1 am thoughts racing in …
I keep thinking she’s dead The little girl who manages Directs and protects the spiritual direlects She keeps popping up On long drives With the right song After the holidays When the dishes are clean And the family has left She shows up again and again I wrestle her in fits Insisting I don’t need …
I sit stroking a handmade bookmark From an old friend Dangling over a page of a poetry From my husband Wrapped up in a blanket From his father And for the life of me I cannot stop circling this ill fitting loneliness Ancient, itchy, incessant Littering this perfect moment With crumpled bits of hurt From …
Despondence My failures: Perceived losses. My perception is skewed. Is it? Does Mother Earth cry As her forests burn to ash? Does she weep at the sight of her people drowning in her floods? I don’t know. I don’t know.
The fragrance of this room is familiar It is the rotting embers of truth and light, trampled on for months filling my nose and brain. I’ve found myself here again, hints of my consensual participation buzzing in my ears. Its tail bats away a fly Hooves march about The stench becomes unbearable. The last glowing …