nr__ - Hello Poetry

2008 feels like an over-exposed picture captured on a digital camera printed at a convenience store loaded onto a dvd-r a date is printed faintly on the back — blue ballpoint, maybe — but the neat cursive is so dainty that i can barely make it out my arms are wrapped around my baby sister you can see the reflection of a flash, but i smile playfully and she raises two pudgy hands in greeting i peer through my own red eyes like a window, and gray blue burns white hot in my chest 2008 has been torn at the edges soiled with food dropped in a puddle it bleeds and bleeds and bleeds until ruby red smiles melt, long lost to growing up

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Feb 4, 2025

Feb 4, 2025 at 3:13 PM UTC

childhood

2008 feels like an over-exposed picture captured on a digital camera printed at a convenience store loaded onto a dvd-r a date is printed faintly on the back — blue ballpoint, maybe — but the neat cursive is so dainty that i can barely make it out my arms are wrapped around my baby sister you can see the reflection of a flash, but i smile playfully and she raises two pudgy hands in greeting i peer through my own red eyes like a window, and gray blue burns white hot in my chest 2008 has been torn at the edges soiled with food dropped in a puddle it bleeds and bleeds and bleeds until ruby red smiles melt, long lost to growing up

21

My life lacked purpose ‘fore the day we met Beneath the harvest moon you stood in wait Your eyes, bright amber, blinking large and wet I swooned at our encounter, called it fate, Your hair, it shimmered dark as blackest night You scorned me, yet I could not turn away When suddenly you took off in a flight, I swore that I would not be kept at bay Your silhouette now low against the ground, I squint to make you out in night’s dim haze Hear rapid patters as you tread around Your countenance a mirror of your ways When last I do approach, you hiss and mewl Alas, now to a cat I’ve played the fool!

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Feb 14, 2024

Feb 14, 2024 at 12:50 PM UTC

Sonnet for a Fateful Encounter

My life lacked purpose ‘fore the day we met Beneath the harvest moon you stood in wait Your eyes, bright amber, blinking large and wet I swooned at our encounter, called it fate, Your hair, it shimmered dark as blackest night You scorned me, yet I could not turn away When suddenly you took off in a flight, I swore that I would not be kept at bay Your silhouette now low against the ground, I squint to make you out in night’s dim haze Hear rapid patters as you tread around Your countenance a mirror of your ways When last I do approach, you hiss and mewl Alas, now to a cat I’ve played the fool!

14

Camila dips a toe into the black A ring of water sears upon her skin She knows at once she cannot venture back until she tames the beast that lurks within She’s grown familiar with its poison kiss, The fragile light corrupted by its shade, Yet if one truth exists, she thinks it this: Camila’s fought too long to be afraid She winces as her knuckles sear and scar But, trem'bling, she does not cease her descent She casts her burning eyes into the tar and spies the beast, head hung and elbows bent, but startles when the beast cries out in song Its voice had been Camila’s all along

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Feb 13, 2024

Feb 13, 2024 at 11:32 AM UTC

Sonnet for Camila

Camila dips a toe into the black A ring of water sears upon her skin She knows at once she cannot venture back until she tames the beast that lurks within She’s grown familiar with its poison kiss, The fragile light corrupted by its shade, Yet if one truth exists, she thinks it this: Camila’s fought too long to be afraid She winces as her knuckles sear and scar But, trem'bling, she does not cease her descent She casts her burning eyes into the tar and spies the beast, head hung and elbows bent, but startles when the beast cries out in song Its voice had been Camila’s all along

14

we drink in the day like a cup of coffee or a soft breath a question beneath a universe of sacrifice never changing lingering with love

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Feb 6, 2024

Feb 6, 2024 at 1:01 PM UTC

cup

we drink in the day like a cup of coffee or a soft breath a question beneath a universe of sacrifice never changing lingering with love

6

I watch her watch herself, pale, slender fingers pressed against her flat stomach. She gives an uncertain sigh as she turns this way and that, twirling a lock of hair in her pale, slender fingers and trying to look disinterested in her own reflection. She reaches into a tiny purse, eventually, and pulls out a tube of mascara. Her eyes widen to marbles as she teeters close to the mirror, applying her armor stroke by stroke by stroke. She knows that I am watching her now (I wobble hazily in the mirror), so I look away for a moment, and by the time my eyes dart back to hers, her eyelashes flutter pitch black Like ink spilling from a fountain pen. I can tell she’s still looking at her stomach And she can tell I’m still looking at her, so she murmurs something like acknowledgement and brushes past me. Watching her walk away feels wrong, so I look down at my hands instead, red and pruny from the hot water seeping down the drain.

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Jan 31, 2024

Jan 31, 2024 at 1:24 PM UTC

The Mirror

I watch her watch herself, pale, slender fingers pressed against her flat stomach. She gives an uncertain sigh as she turns this way and that, twirling a lock of hair in her pale, slender fingers and trying to look disinterested in her own reflection. She reaches into a tiny purse, eventually, and pulls out a tube of mascara. Her eyes widen to marbles as she teeters close to the mirror, applying her armor stroke by stroke by stroke. She knows that I am watching her now (I wobble hazily in the mirror), so I look away for a moment, and by the time my eyes dart back to hers, her eyelashes flutter pitch black Like ink spilling from a fountain pen. I can tell she’s still looking at her stomach And she can tell I’m still looking at her, so she murmurs something like acknowledgement and brushes past me. Watching her walk away feels wrong, so I look down at my hands instead, red and pruny from the hot water seeping down the drain.

22

and i am Seething in my seat and my mother reaches for my hand as if to say “i’m sorry” but she doesn’t say it and she pats my head and we will not speak of this again and my father nods in absent agreement and my sister watches my eyes always watching as if i am a time bomb about to explode.

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Jun 9, 2023

Jun 9, 2023 at 12:08 AM UTC

i listen (from a church pew)

and i am Seething in my seat and my mother reaches for my hand as if to say “i’m sorry” but she doesn’t say it and she pats my head and we will not speak of this again and my father nods in absent agreement and my sister watches my eyes always watching as if i am a time bomb about to explode.

11

the sun is your heart a ball of white hot anger too distant to touch. the sun is your smile clear through skies and atmospheres and it shines. you shine. the sun is your breath pulsing with understanding heavy, solemn, slow.

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Jun 9, 2023

Jun 9, 2023 at 12:03 AM UTC

the sun

the sun is your heart a ball of white hot anger too distant to touch. the sun is your smile clear through skies and atmospheres and it shines. you shine. the sun is your breath pulsing with understanding heavy, solemn, slow.

9

a single rosebush beside the path its thorn ****** at her side but on she walks at a solemn pace her heart in agony a patch of brambles occludes the way its vines too thick and wide but on she walks over briared earth the pain becomes her guide a path leads down to a shattered coast its tide so strong and high but on she walks into greyest sea and melts into the tide a hollow gasp slips from thinnest lips teardrops from iron eye but on she walks at a solemn pace she feels the spirit die

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Mar 25, 2022

Mar 25, 2022 at 10:22 PM UTC

an elegy

a single rosebush beside the path its thorn ****** at her side but on she walks at a solemn pace her heart in agony a patch of brambles occludes the way its vines too thick and wide but on she walks over briared earth the pain becomes her guide a path leads down to a shattered coast its tide so strong and high but on she walks into greyest sea and melts into the tide a hollow gasp slips from thinnest lips teardrops from iron eye but on she walks at a solemn pace she feels the spirit die

16

if i could find words not in vain to describe her, verses of her Virtuousness, i would sing her humble approval in glances so fleeting her song like a robin’s, beckoning the spring our friendship, a gentle yet short affair she, the girl with the golden hair oh, how i would press softest lips to her own should she give me a whisper, an answer, a plea, and yet, from her halo of Heavenly judgement not once has she cast a soft look towards me a heart that is wounded beyond repair she, the girl with the golden hair through Holiest laughter, i smooth back her tresses her eyes crinkle up in a bittersweet smile i murmur, i love you, she tells me, i’m sorry. we sit in the frost of december a while warm breath on cold cheeks, puffs of hot air from she, the girl with the golden hair winter is breaking, and spring is long gone, as is her gossamer, dissolute song our friendship, a tender yet brief affair me and the girl with the golden hair.

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Feb 5, 2022

Feb 5, 2022 at 12:31 AM UTC

the girl with the golden hair

if i could find words not in vain to describe her, verses of her Virtuousness, i would sing her humble approval in glances so fleeting her song like a robin’s, beckoning the spring our friendship, a gentle yet short affair she, the girl with the golden hair oh, how i would press softest lips to her own should she give me a whisper, an answer, a plea, and yet, from her halo of Heavenly judgement not once has she cast a soft look towards me a heart that is wounded beyond repair she, the girl with the golden hair through Holiest laughter, i smooth back her tresses her eyes crinkle up in a bittersweet smile i murmur, i love you, she tells me, i’m sorry. we sit in the frost of december a while warm breath on cold cheeks, puffs of hot air from she, the girl with the golden hair winter is breaking, and spring is long gone, as is her gossamer, dissolute song our friendship, a tender yet brief affair me and the girl with the golden hair.

22

Time slipped away in the spring, in the muddy puddles and the rain, in the sweet-smelling flowers and the rain. It rubbed circles into the small of my back, whispered bittersweet apologies and tacked a sticky note to my corkboard. “Remember to call.” I forgot. And I sit under the blooming tree my bare feet soft against the grass Time left me in the summer, in the sunny skies and the rain, in the sweltering heat and the rain. It ran somewhere unknown, far, far, far away, while I treaded chlorinated water and prayed that the fall would come sooner. “You can call whenever.” I didn’t. And I sit beside the verdant tree my bare feet hard on the pavement Time was gone in the fall, in the whispered breeze and the rain, in the crinkling leaves and the rain. But I had company in a glowing screen, And as days turned to weeks turned to months I forgot about time altogether. “Someone is calling.” I hung up. And I sit far from the dying tree my bare feet resting on the couch Time slept in the winter, in the miserable cold and the rain, in the blustery wind and the rain. Numbers and names disavowed, As “today” and “tomorrow” become “now” and “later” “What is the word called?” I don’t know. And I cannot see the empty tree my bare feet asleep on the carpet Time has returned in the spring. It looks me in the eyes, profuse apologies pouring out from its lips. “But you didn’t call.” I blink. Didn’t I?

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Apr 28, 2021

Apr 28, 2021 at 12:52 AM UTC

Clock

Time slipped away in the spring, in the muddy puddles and the rain, in the sweet-smelling flowers and the rain. It rubbed circles into the small of my back, whispered bittersweet apologies and tacked a sticky note to my corkboard. “Remember to call.” I forgot. And I sit under the blooming tree my bare feet soft against the grass Time left me in the summer, in the sunny skies and the rain, in the sweltering heat and the rain. It ran somewhere unknown, far, far, far away, while I treaded chlorinated water and prayed that the fall would come sooner. “You can call whenever.” I didn’t. And I sit beside the verdant tree my bare feet hard on the pavement Time was gone in the fall, in the whispered breeze and the rain, in the crinkling leaves and the rain. But I had company in a glowing screen, And as days turned to weeks turned to months I forgot about time altogether. “Someone is calling.” I hung up. And I sit far from the dying tree my bare feet resting on the couch Time slept in the winter, in the miserable cold and the rain, in the blustery wind and the rain. Numbers and names disavowed, As “today” and “tomorrow” become “now” and “later” “What is the word called?” I don’t know. And I cannot see the empty tree my bare feet asleep on the carpet Time has returned in the spring. It looks me in the eyes, profuse apologies pouring out from its lips. “But you didn’t call.” I blink. Didn’t I?

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