she met with him
in room 184 of
the love motel
the plants were dying sooner this fall
and so was she.

she’d yelp as he tightened his grip
around her waist
making it harder to breathe
making the guilt harder to bear
-with every gasp
she only thought about his heart wearing away within him

and when it was dun
she gave way to tears as he wiped her
chest.





hard to smudge regret

She had a dissembling way
about her.
agenda concealed and opaque as nightfall.
her smile
conniving
making me wish i left sooner.

mi novia del campo
tiene pelo rizado but she always stuffs
her curls in buns
and she layers her gold necklaces that have been passed through generaciones of abuelas
and she always ran en el campo
sin zapatos

comes home and cries on her bed
soaking her bata
her sweet coquito tears
making me drunk

oh how i want to make her happy
mi tesoro del campo..

she spoke rumors
thick as morning breath

traveled around the neighborhood
like wildfire

got cut off like a cancer


and forgotten like a new years resolution

acne-riddled
bushy-browed preteen
with more hormones than head
writing in the hallways
the smell of premature couples and drama
lingered like a heavy blanket from the ceiling so she was a wallflower
writing about the broken friendship bonds that are soon to come..

he initially lost his mind
when the apple blossoms started to come back from a long absence..
wishing that when he picked up his hand and stroked the bark of the tree
he wasn’t smelling rotting insides of old war pals
..never getting to hold their mothers petite hands again..
yet the apple blossoms

so clean
like home
home
where he thought that once he signed into the draft
fighting for his country would be a
beautiful thing

but in reality
both sides get hurt..





you will never be free

the birds were perched up
congregating
atop of the Rite Aide awning
they fly in twos descending toward
the local pizza shop
with the faded awning
tearing at the seams

trying to make sense of it all..