What if we as women quit the
“what if’s” and “but when’s” and “except he’s”
and left him the first time we felt a rock drop in our bellies?
I whipped the trash bag into its receptacle today,
worthlessness disguised as anger, and
reapplied my make up three times because
being late is the same as saying you don’t want me
Or I’m not good enough to race against the type of woman
you’re used to.
I think of the ways I used to shame myself when this happened before, when a boy I loved didn’t mind enough
to love me back the same way,
or at all,
but this time, I don’t reach for a blade
I sip a drink -- a daughter takes after her father.
I use essential oils with scents of
emotions I pray to feel --
scents like “uplifting” and “serene” and “relax”
Is there an essential oil the flavor of ****** off”?
Because that seems to be the only way I feel lately –
roiling and ready for a fight,
jaw clenched tight
against the taste of your name.
Oct 4, 2019
Oct 4, 2019 at 6:19 PM UTC
bodies familiar in the hues
of a dying day
in the shadows, in the shade
blacks and grays,
indigos and jades
whispers muted in the last
gasps of light
our language,
words knit into the night
our vision, monochromatic --
your breaths,
the moon,
my static
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 9:32 PM UTC
october 6, 2018
was a day for wearing white,
supposed to be his bride
instead, I’m alone
in a new home,
watching an Indian summer go by –
robin’s egg skies, and
emerald hills
i wish it was raining instead
october sixth was supposed to be
navy and cream,
stargazer lilies, and a
backyard wedding in
southern indiana woods
where leaves the color of blood,
wept with all our loved ones
paving the way of our future
a prologue: dates to the theater,
foamy beer,
sticky dance floors,
loud words and hate,
a home together, destined to fall
and the secrets stuck
like dust
sometimes, the devil hides behind the shadows of love
now, i wake up alone,
in my new home
to the songs of doves,
the morning is for mourning,
i like to think they’re singing for me
i cradle the mug in my hands,
listen to the birds
and the words,
a song i wrote and sing to myself,
the chorus, it goes like this:
“you’re safe now”
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 6:51 PM UTC
i know every corner in this place --
from house-made mocha
the pastel pastries and
speckled mugs
to the weight of the space you take
behind the counter
your fingers brush mine
steam on styrofoam
and a smile so soft --
all espresso eyes and smooth jazz
the grind of the beans and your laugh:
my soundtrack
it's the coffee bringing me to this place,
it's the caffeine that makes me shake,
it can't be your brown eyes
keeping me awake
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 2:26 PM UTC
Like a dove's mournful cry
echoing across fresh dew,
Like a shadowy silhouette
against a steady sunset,
Like the way I marry my
coffee and cream,
Like the way a book's pages
flutter between my fingers
You are --
A burst of spring,
A given hand,
A warm embrace,
History in the making,
Yet perhaps,
Like a jolt of blue lightning
striking across my midnight sky,
You are ephemeral
in your ties to me
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 9:38 AM UTC
Learn to lead from the rear,
a constant silhouette
against a steady sunset.
But back here,
there’s so much to fear,
and too much to feel.
So I sit, scared of the silence.
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 2:31 PM UTC
Your eyes are lit low,
at dusk, like liquid gold.
There’s heavy silence,
your words come slow.
But, can you just hold on?
let’s wait until the dawn,
let sunlight touch your promise.
What if this goes all wrong?
Your fingertips play my spine,
you swear things will be fine.
I turn into you,
already, you feel like mine.
Your arms protect me,
your eyes, they set me free,
your lips promise forever,
Don’t you ever leave.
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 2:15 PM UTC
She has a boyfriend who closes his when they play pool,
It’s only fair that way.
She smiles at him over her cue,
all teeth, open mouth and bubblegum lips,
and the ball jumps off the table.
She screeches a laugh,
This girl, she loves loud --
Shaping words to songs,
Dancing with a pool cue,
Framing my face with her delicate touch,
Piano fingers playing etch-a-sketch,
connecting my freckles and bridging gaps,
changing the world.
The sun pours out in her words,
She loves with her smile
And speaks with her hands.
She laughs at a challenge,
always eager to take a chance
Mar 17, 2019
Mar 17, 2019 at 7:48 PM UTC
We sat with a pair of burgers between us,
the Purdue game muted on the big screen.
We talked about high school and
Friday night football and
health insurance and
what it feels like to get hit by a car --
our first date, just five years removed.
You have abstract works painted like satin
in your skin
like scars
in your skin
like memories
like nightmares
like “I wish I would have’s…”
I tease you gently;
you beg me not to work so much
You frown at your plate
swirl your fries in ketchup and
in this, I see fragments of the old you.
I ask if you’re going to church tomorrow,
and you reflect the question
like it’s a challenge
like belief is always shaped with doubt
like even when there’s faith, voices still waiver.
There are still tiny fractures
in your bones
in your voice
in our memories.
There are still raindrops in your eyes
when we talk about high school and
Friday night football and
health insurance and
what it feels like to get hit by a car.
There are still scars in your skin
in your mind
in my heart --
Our first date, just five years removed
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 7:53 PM UTC
men are sharks and weakness is blood
circle in the shallow waters of my insecurity
eyes flashing with hunger
bite off a piece of my heart, help yourself to seconds
let the leftovers go stale
there’s blood in the water
like hieroglyphics
like liquid hourglass
memories from a wolf pack that swallowed me whole
all that’s left is a jangling bunch of bones
calcium wind chimes
the ghost of my screams will be the trumpet
your beating will be the drums
Feb 23, 2019
Feb 23, 2019 at 7:44 PM UTC