The focus and stamina it requires
To wrangle my thoughts
To corral them into the pen
I am the matador of my mind.
Or maybe the rodeo clown.

Getting out of bed is my marathon
Shall I put a sticker on my car?
26.2 steps.
My body is the weight of iron.
Combined with brushing
My hair and teeth
I am a triathlete.

Atlas to your expectations
Icarus to Grace
Flown too close, yet fell on your face.
Crack it open.
Fear proceeds,
The seed to the lies
That keep you from me.
Eye contact with the mirror,
Turned to stone.
Frozen by the longing
to be wanted and known

My phone kept telling me to drive to your house.
It’d say:
“10 minutes drive to the market, if you leave now,”
Thinking the market is where I went.
Though all those evenings were spent
At your place.

It kept suggesting I text you
When I’d send things to my friends.
Each time I’d worry I accidentally did,
and beg it to end.

And for the first time today, it finally stopped.
Just in time for you to contact me again.

My soul is a raging sea.
Walk on it.
Speak, “peace, be still,” to me.
Calm the waters, and on the shore
Make Your home in Galilee.

You cant start a fire?
This was a mistake—
Our steak will be rare.
I rarely light but a candle
Let alone desire.
Poor match.
Give me the match,
And unlatch from your mother.

I’ll keep us fed and warm.
shadow sewn to your feet.
Maintaining deceit—
Don’t look so forlorn.
Take your seat…
just another one to stash in your hoard.

This is not home
Not these limbs, not this head
Drifter come and gone
Tabernacle bed  
Ghosting the body
Until this wandering skin shed