I said I'd love you forever
and you came back 5 years later
begging me to prove it.
You were adamant that I recall every detail,
as I'd promised.
You asked your favorite color,
if I remembered the way you'd kiss me
one lip at a time.
I reached into the back of my mind,
to the room where I'd kept you
and all your idiosyncrasies
separate from the sun.
I braced myself for the slow burn
that would travel inevitably
through my hand from the doorknob.
Nothing came.
I pushed through the door
to your windowless room,
and found nothing but the dust that you deserved.
I said I'd love you forever.
I'm sorry,
I didn't realize I was lying.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
I’m doing so well.
I offered you to Charybdis in exchange for my sanity.
Scylla too, at first, but she seemed too great an evil and I’m over it, I promise.
I’d rather watch you disappear into the maelstrom of my memory than
have to pick six pieces of your body from the crags in my head.
I’m doing so well.
I warned you of the Lotus Eaters
and took ten deep breaths when you peeked inside the bag of winds and blew our love astray.
I told a blind Polyphemus you were sorry for his loss.
He said Nobody is sorry, and I knew that he was right.
I’m doing so well.
I amble through Phoenicia on sidewalks that remember all the stories you told.
I bump into Nausikaa. She asks if I am Circe, and I tell her my name.
She drops her gaze to the pavement before admitting that you never mentioned me.
I’m doing so well.
I don’t spite the olives that dare to grow without our bodies entwined beneath them.
And I don’t mind when Antinous calls me ahead, begging me to finish our shroud - to leave the loom,
and us, behind.
I’m doing so well.
I buried all my anger in Kalypso’s wet sand
And as it followed you out to sea with the tide she came up and commiserated;
You left her once, too.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 6:37 PM UTC
When I hear the word
Nostalgia;
I think of the trampoline
and how we weren't allowed
to put the sprinkler underneath
it; when anyone was home.
A big black lab who knew
love
but never manners
and who never
wanted to learn,
especially not from us.
We laughed louder than we cried,
and he must have thought
those kids are doing
something
everything
nothing
right.
Watching my
big brother
land his first and
only kickflip while
discovering dew-wet worlds
in the bamboo shoots
that grew
inexplicably
in our Connecticut backyard.
Eating crab apples,
and never getting
too sick to want
another one.
Sitting in circle time
not knowing
that we were
the only
black kids
but knowing that
our parents loved us enough
to teach us themselves.
Walking outside on
the first day of spring,
and baking on the pavement like
fresh brown bread.
Days that started with
waffles and too much Aunt Jemima,
and ended, invariably,
with Sleepy Time Tea.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC
We love in a moment
and we marvel at our efficiency,
stretching seconds into years.
The sheer longevity,
the way time whispers her secrets
so that only skin can hear.
In years, I imagine,
I will stand under tepid water
and feel your absence
on the expanse of my rib cage.
Dipping softly into the well
of the sound of your voice before
drowning in it's silence.
In seconds (years), I'll resurface (recover).
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 11:53 AM UTC
Most nights
I want someone
whose hands will find a niche
in the hollows of my silhouette
where my hips kiss my ribs
hello and goodbye
and whose head will rest between *******
that he bared only hours before.
Most nights
I want to wake and say
"Hello, duvet - "
to the dizzy dark haired
man of my dreams.
But tonight,
I will sleep alone -
and not feel it.
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 2:20 AM UTC
Here is my soul, and here she will stay.
She clings to my ribs at the end of each day
She's fragile and small, she refuses to grow.
I'd ask her to leave, but she has nowhere to go.
She's the rush of my blood, the flush from inside
She has nothing to fear, and nothing to hide.
She loves the rain, and the wind from the west
She loved you too before you left.
She speaks to me when I'm alone.
If my body's a castle, she sits on the throne.
She taught me laughter, love, and light.
She never sleeps, although I might.
Sometimes I hate her, she's never wrong.
But I can't stay away for long.
I loved you once, I've loved him thrice,
but it's she who grips me like a vice.
And though I give my heart away,
here is my soul, and here she will stay.
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 4:37 PM UTC
you, are a new you.
and i want to fall asleep when you sleep
and only ever wake
to the sound of your gaze
as it drinks me in like water
and the touch of your wonder,
as it covers me with
the gossamer whisper
of lips grazing skin.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 10:04 PM UTC
I sleep with 12
pillows; I'm afraid
of the dark.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 11:04 PM UTC
You anchor me to the rest of my life.
Despite despotic fear,
standing on the quivering edge of being alone -
holding my hand and catching our reflections
on the dark stormy waters of the things we do not know.
You are my dream catcher,
and I promise I will keep yours safe and sound
for whenever you need to be reminded
of why it hurts so badly in the first place.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 10:49 PM UTC
I planted kisses on your back
and watched you grow into my home.
I drew my flag on your chest
with steady fingers.
But I lost too many battles of our silly civil war
and kept a vapid, trembling score.
I conquered your valleys
but could not climb our hills.
I traversed other mountains,
and let cold winters make me numb.
I flew to bright blue oceans,
drank from the fountains of nature
and its inhabitants.
I tried to leave myself behind
in topography that I could never learn to love.
I determined my home to be whatever I chose.
But I would trade my Sahara
and every aboriginal
because no other country
grows wild with my kiss.
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 9:46 PM UTC