the sweet summer air is heavy with afternoon storm.

the verdant underbellies of the oak trees seem to hold their breath in anticipation—

waiting for water.

finally! the rain kisses the ground. so soft.

i remind myself that grief is just love that has come up against her oldest challenger

i remember how to breathe.

warm breath meets wet hair
muted sunlight hits his blond lashes,
and our lips touch to the sound of simple salutations

a square of soft light is a white sheet hung out to dry
his subdued snoring: waves against a rocky shore

in this moment, what is peace to me?
a constellation of freckles; an archipelago
sweet silence
trailing fingers down a naked side

he still reminds me of an Appalachian sunrise

to me, she is the throne that she sits upon.

they say love is like religion, so with good days on my mind i fall to my knees and remember the day we met

that day, a colorless husk of who i am opened the door to that hallway where she stood

that day, sound and color poured into me with one word: "hi"

i knew then that i would never let her slip through my fingers

everything about her feels right-- like the first breath of cool air after being underwater for too long.

i know her smile so well i can see it in my sleep.

i just got home from work, mama

now i understand

i remember wondering why you always had a drink with dinner

now i understand

worked all day long today, till i was exhausted, and i STILL had to go get the eggs and the milk.

now i understand

walked home from the store in the dark, my feet
aching
       burning
                 aching
                            burning
with every step.

now i understand

got my computer out to play music while i cooked dinner for myself, and it was dead. i almost screamed with frustration.

now i understand

this house seems so empty when i'm alone.
i miss you, mama.

i know now why you always had a drink with dinner.
i understand, mama.

and i'm grateful.

when we met, the colors and the sounds of everythingness faded away until there was nothingness. it was 11:30 and you were beautiful.

when the early morning light crashed through the blinds and landed on your sleeping face, it was 8:30 and you were beautiful.

when we went to the mountain that day and played in the sky, your smile shone so bright i thought it might never dim-- it was 4:30 and you were beautiful.

the night we had gas-station sushi and you spent hours bent over the toilet, i held your hair and you smiled a thank-you at me with dribble on your chin.
by god... it was 2:30 and you were beautiful.

now i hold your hand, cool and soft and decorated with decade-old kisses from the sun. your eyes are closed.

it was 9:30 when you left me, and you were beautiful.

i suppose i find comfort in the next life
whatever form i might take
something to look forward to in the next chapter

my cat sleeps in the sunspot on my bed. her throat remembers the deep rumbling of content, my idea of yesterday's heaven.

my garden, filled not with zinnias, but with families and friends, reminds me so suddenly of change.

my mom and dad sit in the yard-- his hand resting casually on the arm of her chair, holding a glass of water that's sweating in the summer sun. i can see them smiling from here.

i peek out the doors and windows, camera in hand, anxious to catch every breath, every moment of this day,

just in case my mind forgets

i was born in the year of soft blue baby blankets.

my mother was a summer night with a symphony of crickets, and fireflies dancing in the leaves of her big maple tree.

my father? he was hide-and-seek in the trees and animal sounds and gut-splitting laughter.

so i think sometimes... is it any wonder i grew up to be some kind of funky cross between aslan the lion and the prettiest kind of butterfly?

take a long look at me-- i'm effervescent, like glimmering lights after a ball. i'm warm, like a long hug after too much space. i'm bright, like eyes shining with tears from laughter. i'm beautiful.

sweet exhale... sun-chapped lips sing eagerly of love.
you speak with such pure, blissful blindness.

her cold fingers sculpt carefully the heartbreak... but lost is whose heart makes up the rubble crushed beneath her pointed boot.

the hurt i carry with me is inescapable... the universe seldom graces me with smiles.

"loving" someone like that is straight sin: sacrilegious, like wearing jeans to ash wednesday. she doesn't fit.

your stubbornness is infuriating

(trigger warning... mentions of r*pe)


before the law sITs a gatekeeper,

deCider of fates, seer Of truths, and dispatcher of jUstice.

a Lot of people lie, so the gatekeeper guarDs the law, afraid of what

might happen come retriBution day, when an innocent man goEs to

prison.


innocent mAN goes to prison. innocent man. innocent man.


the gatekeeper fears for the man, protects the man. lord forbid an

innocent man goes to jail for something he didn’t do.

“plus, chicks exaggerate **** all the time. . .[theY] could **** [a]

**** and still [call] **** just because [they don’t] want it later on”  


plus, a lot of people lie.


drunk guys always get the benefit of dOubt. drunk womeN do not.

what wEre you wearing? were you flirting? dO you have a boyFriend?

were you drinking?


one in five women are ***** or sexually assaUlted.Seventy percent of

women ages 18-24 are assaulted each year. no more than twenty percent

of ****** assaults are reported.


and yet the gatekeeper sits and protects the law. protects the man.


it could be me! one in five women! it could be me

or her

or her

or you

when will we teach boys not to **** instead of teaching girls how not to be *****?

i don’t want to worry about going to a party or going to a friend’s house and waking up with Him inside of me

i don’t want to worry about going to a festival and putting down my drink for a second, only to pick it back up and feel dizzy after a few sips, go back to my tent and wake up with Him inside of me

i don’t want to confide in friends and family and try to find justice and be accused of lying about something so personal

i don’t want to have the guilt and the shame and the anger follow me for years after, chasing me like some monster from a storybook

i don’t want to have to know that people believe Him over me

i don’t want to see him around town and know what he did and know he could do it again

when will we teach boys not to **** instead of teaching girls how not to be *****?

it could be me. and i don’t want to be *****.

when you told me you loved me for the first time, i thought i’d never need to hear the words again

when you said we’d have our dream house, our dream life, our dream kids, i thought i’d never need to plan again

when you smiled with me and laughed at me and wound yourself so tightly around me that i thought you’d never leave, i knew i’d never need to search again.

but when you said that “this just isn’t what i need anymore”, i thought i hadn’t felt pain like that before.

i was wrong, cause

when you said that you’d forgotten what our first kiss was like, you broke me all over again.

a single sparrow sings, perched atop one of the hemlocks that stand guard over their kingdom.

busy bees buzz around the redbud tree, bringing pollen to their queen.

the green garden gate ***** in the breeze, beckoning all with promises of sweet oasis from the summer sun.

the hazy sky and I swap stories,

and the spring peepers serenade us as the night falls, the universe unveiling her silent shadow like blossoms after rain.

the stars told me to say hello

a single sparrow sings, perched atop one of the hemlocks that stand guard over their kingdom.

busy bees buzz around the redbud tree, bringing pollen to their queen.

Izze! Look at the moon
Started looking at the sky,
Only aesthetics

I wanted my own
So I started looking up,
Enjoying life, sky.

I hated myself
Not joking! My aesthetic
Has totally changed.

I love me and life.
Thanks for the reminders, sky.
Thank you moon and stars.

sadness and anger threaten strangulation

my throat starts to close and i gasp for air, trapped under the turbulent waters of heartbreak

karma’s a *****, but she ain’t no match for me.

the poems i write these days are disjunct and disappointingly ordinary, and i feel they truly reflect my state of consciousness.

**** here come the waves again

my fingers stumble to press play on something i know will make me feel better. music is a panacea, most days

18 is on my horizon, followed closely by the rest of my life.

can’t it ******* get here already?? what are we waiting for, people????

the alcohol hits my empty stomach

the fire there reminds me of what we once had

the dull ache in the back of my throat a double entendre for the crying i’ve been doing recently and the cheap ***** i drank like water after days in the desert

my fingers reach for your name or your hair or your body or anything to comfort me right now but you’re not here

not in body, not in mind, not in spirit

the alcohol hits my empty stomach as i sway to the song of memories we made

memories you’ve forgotten

how would you feel if someone decided

just like that

you are unworthy

how would you feel?

I USED TO LOVE THE SOUND OF MY WINDCHIMES

they blew in that wind and they were always my own special symphony, everchanging, reminding me that the world is never the same world twice and that beauty was always with me when i was with you.

the wind blows so cold now.

all i hear is a cacophony of sounds so ugly and melancholy that they sound like the way my heart broke when you called me that day. the chimes i hear now sound like when dad dropped mom's favorite glass and we spent the whole night looking for the glittery sharps on the kitchen floor.

you threw your watercolor into the fire, sure. but you threw me in there, too. you threw every memory we made , every song we sang, everything i ever made for you or gave to you or did for you in that fire.

and i hate you for it.

it's under that hot summer sun that i sit,

the one that scorches you and turns your skin pink until its blistered and stinging, but you love it anyway.

i sit here, watching the morning glories leftover from the sunrise siesta curl up and wither into dry husks, faded but still colorful enough to remind me of what they once were.

i look up, and the clear blue sky is so bright it's painful, so i close my eyes. the sun dances warmly on my cheeks and i try to remember a time before i knew you.

a gold-crested finch flies by, then two, then four. suddenly i'm with them, wheeling and flitting and dancing amongst the flowers, flirting with the bees and--

there you are. your green eyes, bright like electric limes, pore into mine and express an emotion that i didn't know any human was capable of. except you're not, really.

we sit together in the guava-sunscreen-scented sunshine, speaking in our own language about those birds, and for a second we look at each other. i smile, and we wait for the sun to go down.