I HATE BEING UNDERESTIMATED.
ESPECIALLY BY MEN.

IF IM A WOMAN,
DOESN'T MEAN I CANT LEAD,
DOESN'T MEAN I CANT DO STUFF YOU GUYS CAN.

STOP UNDERESTIMATING US GIRLS.
SOME OF US ARE FCKIN TIRED OF IT.

The porch sags beneath me,
its gray boards sighing.
I light a cigarette,
send my breath to the wind-
maybe White‑Shell Woman
will carry it to the horizon.
He's fired again,
last kitchen inside forty miles
that could stand him,
bridge burned behind.

At lunch I’ll call,
say get out
or Daddy and Jimbo
will haul your whiskey bones
to lie with the rattlesnakes.

I swore to Mama and to Owl,
I will keep the night honest,
I wouldn’t spend my years
driving a man to dialysis,
watching Irish blood unravel
like wet lace.

But I remember the long Covid winter-
two bears in one den,
one soft, one starved-
when Spider Grandmother
wove us together
in the dim blue light
of tele-novellas and snow.
I almost believed
it was love again.

He pops up like a coyote
in the truck’s passenger door,
smelling of smoke and ruin.
Eighty‑five down the prairie road,
bug‑spattered glass,
sky bending blue,
fields gold as escape.

This isn’t working, I whisper.
We want different things.

Don’t, he says,
fingers crawling my thigh

No-
I shove.
Sweetness peels,
the sleeping volcano wakes.

Before his hand
can teach me the rest,
I already know:
there is no leaving.
The road is long,
lined with white crosses,
and Ghost Buffalo
has been leading me
down it all my life.

You came without footsteps.
I did not hear the door
only felt you
arrive
beneath my ribs,
like smoke curling into a sealed jar.
I was praying,
but you were the breath I used to say your name.
Now I live
in a room without walls.
No ceiling, no floor
only your nearness,
pressing me open
from within.
I am not asking for paradise.
I am asking
for the warmth of your palm
on the small of my back
when I am weary of seeking.
I am asking
to lean into you
as a tree leans into wind it trusts.
Let the world do what it wants
let time collapse,
let stars fall into rivers
but let me keep
the wine of your presence
on my tongue
a moment longer.
There are days I am nothing but hunger.
Days I mistake your silence
for absence.
But then a bird lands on the windowsill
and it is you.
Then my spine tingles
for no reason
and it is you.
And when I weep without knowing why,
it is because you are
too close to name.
You are the touch I can’t return.
The kiss I give inward.
The home I carry
in the hollows of my being.

Little eyes, they are always watching
As I go through fields of sunflowers and clouds of crows
They see everything I do
Little eyes

Little ears, they are always listening
As I whisper words that I throw around like pebbles into a river
They hear everything I say
Little ears

Little hands, they always do what I do
As I pick up the burdens of this life and hold them tightly to my chest
They copy everything I do
Little hands

Little mouth, they always talk as I talk
As I cast my words into a sea of disregarded lies and careless feelings
They say everything I say
Little mouth

Little feet
As I walk down the highways of shadows and allies of sunshine
They follow me wherever I go
Little feet

finding out it’s too late
breaking your favorite plate
screaming at fate
knowing that you don’t have to wait
a path in life that isn't straight
letting go of the weight
just to remember the first date
these are the things i hate

light
more light
red blue
and green
with
a bit of indigo
in
between
just
let
in
more light
to
cleanse
thy soul
thus
expose
the
cracks
inside the soul
tonight
and
gain control
where
the
light
must go

And I glaze the mirror
Asking myself
How could've he liked a girl like me?
Chubby cheeks, sunburned nose
Crooked eyebrows and ears,
that don't hear most
Hanging eyebags, sad doe eyes
and some teeth, which I despise
All in all, but it's no suprise
Loving one like me
Is as hard as it can be