stevie smith was the
greatest poet of her
age, but what’s her
age got to do with it

rather write detective fiction
than poetry but I wouldn’t
be any good at it, and what’s
the difference? she says

some days my legs work better
than others look at me oddly
as I clutch onto the railings, the wall
and you, you most of all  ..

If i falter at the alter - would it matter?
If my tears stained your perfect suit , would it matter?
If I bled on you from scars that you did not cause , would that be okay?
If my insecurities ruined your peace , would you make it better?
When my uglies show , would you stay or run?

- s h a s -

If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie,
Life would be delight,—
But things couldn’t go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn’t be I.

If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I’d be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn’t be you.

If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair,—
Yet they’d all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn’t be we.

I think I'm growing up,
I don't need the same things a child does,

But I need love,
I need your love.

You give me air to breathe,
Warm arms to melt into,

You give me a reason to be,
Let's keep being.

You are the sunlight reflected upon moving water
Only an instant, you’re there
You are the moment the last leaf is falling
Leaving the tree completely bare
You are the tippity top block
Placed upon the pyramid
By a very proud little kid
You are the conveniently placed
Extra roll
Right on the back of the toilet bowl
You are the softest, greenest grass
In a jungle of concrete
You are the one I think about
When I’m falling off to sleep