a year in review
I reread all my haikus
there's less about you
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 4:49 AM UTC
down on my knees again, sweaty hands folded on my bed
praying to a power that may not exist
this time, like every time before
"am I being heard?"
or am I just nineteen and crazy
exchanging words with the air
I resent for filling my lungs
and keeping me alive
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 4:43 AM UTC
a souvlaki of
secret beaches, white walls, and
ignoring the clock
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 4:41 AM UTC
Two granola bars in
ten minutes on the bus
sitting next to a stranger
not shy to point out
I'm not using the TV
correctly.
I'm so desperate for human interaction
that I take the criticism with a smile.
I ask the attendant if he has
a video of Joey and I eating
cheesesteak bagels on his pickup bed
in a Walmart parking lot,
or of Shannon port de bra-ing in ballet.
Maybe an audio clip of Kelly
repeating the words "my pretty girl"
until I fall asleep.
He says that all he has is ***** Dancing,
her favourite movie. I guess that will have to do.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 4:38 AM UTC
"This year, I got you
a reminder of all the
time wasted on me."
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 10:03 AM UTC
I’m the poster child for
a creature of habit
filling my water before
brushing my teeth before
setting my alarm before
I turn out the light and get my rest before
I buy white socks in packs of 6
from the checkout line in Rite Aid
because I caved while getting tampons
and my old ones were looking a little grey
ooh, grab that milky way too
shove it in the trunk
forget about the candy bar because I’m late
let it melt as I speed
to my old high school
drop my sister off at the door
so she doesn’t have to walk
then U-turn, left, right
into your driveway because
that’s what I always use to do
and routines don’t break
as easily as spirits and bones
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 12:40 PM UTC
with you
it's slow like the syrup I
drowned the waffles
my mom used to make on
Sunday mornings in
the way you tilted me sideways
and let my sighs build up on the
plate’s edge only to drop me
at the last second
and let the puddle settle
before tipping me once again
Jun 27, 2018
Jun 27, 2018 at 10:10 AM UTC
open eyes, swing legs
over the bed’s edge, time to
wait till night again
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 11:49 AM UTC
10 pm in front of Chipotle
and you said, this is my [rusty] Chevy [something],
which had a radio that played exceptional static
for us to tune out on the trek to Mount Washington.
It was raining, but we had already driven all that way
and so we stood outside anyways
in the low hanging clouds above Pittsburgh.
I said, I’ve never been on a date
with a girl before.
And you said, is it everything you thought it’d be?
And with that
we decided to see who could throw a rock the farthest
[which you won]
and who could name more constellations
[which nobody won, because there
were no stars in sight on that Tuesday night].
Then the couple next to us left
and a new one arrived
and the blanket of fog temporarily lifted
to reveal the UPMC logo.
We watched as the number of tiny office lights
diminished, looking a little bit like an end of the world
power outage in slow motion—
and we silently shrunk in the weight of the moment
as the Earth turned and dragged the seconds along,
and the water of the Allegheny and Monongahela
merged into the Ohio the way our bodies connected at the hands;
two posterchildlesbians showing a city
how
to
fall
in love.
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 3:17 AM UTC
My girl has the gravity of Saturn
Endless layers I have yet to discover
Her eyes, a smeared palette of every color
A surface it’s easy to get lost on
One large ring I often fantasize about
Wearing on my finger
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 11:05 AM UTC