The flowers between our yards
were bleeding pink from their white petals

as if the pink were dripping onto the
dry leaves under my feet

when I plucked one out to remember you.
I told Brother-man it must have been

the most beautiful color I had ever seen.
Surely this has to be a joke,

you, God and his paintbrushes must have
hurriedly whipped up something in the dark

when I was up watching shows about
husbands and fathers who ****.

Then I spilled my tea in your chair
on Christmas Eve. How appropriate.

I even let out a yelp, not uncommon
for you, you dear, sweet old woman

who couldn't hear her own thoughts,
too stubborn to hear the thoughts of others

but always willing to listen.

I am desperate to be clean
yearning to be a kind of remarkable
that never goes unnoticed
frequently reminding myself
that I am no different kind of special
but these lights in my room
say other things, there is a
decorated grace I hope
to find in my fingers,
a warmth I want someone else to see
laying across my shoulder
to touch my neck and tell
me things about myself

but all i
have to
say is
that i'm
terribly
afraid
of men

It's funny.
the cold of the ocean spray seems
a soothing absolution
even after you've tried drowning
(nearly drowned)
washing ashore.
And lying there,
with fresh night sky above, eternal & steady,
even the salt seems sweet and the sand soft.
Each wet breath aches,
but you breathe anyway,
forcing down the good
you know fills the air.
And before you make your way
(back to the world,
your friends and family,
your responsibilities )
it is enough to lay
and count the stars
like blessings in your life.

I want a typical romance
I will jump in the pool naked
brisk and covered in goosebumps
taut, skin straining out
if you offered to kiss me and
hold a split peach in handfuls

On my way home
from a wedding
the road was playing
tricks on me.
I couldn't tell if I was going
u
p
  h
   i
    l
     l
or just p l a t e a u i n g,
never really going
anywhere of any
particular importance.
It was so dark.
Miles from streetlights
and greenlights and any other kind
of lights, I turned my shoulder
to yield, but there was no
sign of another car
to make me slow down.
I rolled the windows
down and sang a song
to you at the top of my
lungs because I hate
the way I feel when you
grab my hand in your
passenger seat and
my stomach free-falls
because of your touch
and the fact that you
won't be my boyfriend.
It's a junior high title,
but humor me,
I didn't get enough
love in my childhood.