lips are like magic
vibrating and lush.
the grooves wet like waaaaaaaaaaaah, breathy;
gushes over the words, thick like
ROUND, GORGEOUS, MOUND.
the nerves inside so maleable
and soft; Tender but oh, watch out.
cause these lips have tricks
up and out like ooh ooh ooh, pursed-
pucker up like a kiss,
jutted out like a punch!
open up like Awwwwwwwww, INHALE
like a yaawwwwwwwwwwwn.
Close it up like, inhale………
Heeeeeeere like a scissor cut sharp in the air.

Your shirt clings to your
Chest and your sweat clings to it;
Now come, cling to me.

If afraid to ask
what an ****** feels like,
just have one instead.

Sea salts on my eyelashes:
I can feel them when I blink.
They weigh my eyes down
and make me think I want to sleep.

They’re probably right.

I wanna, I say, naively but sweetly soft;
never knowing quite what I want.
I want to know, no, need to know
but until then I can only know
that's it's not what I've been told.

I wanna know but can only think,
because who knows? I've never been
in love. (For shame,
have I admitted this aloud?)
Embarrassment, knowing I have been alone-
Comfort, knowing I'm not alone in that.

I wanna, I say, sweetly but naively firm,
resist what I've been told to
want. I want but am too afraid to
act wants out. In theory though,
all facts aside, I think about this
all the time. I can’t help but wanna boy.

I wanna boy who talks deep,
in thoughts, but I mean voice-
in an octave way down from his depths;
it will tickle and itch me
even when we don’t touch.

I wanna boy whose skin is rough
in any way: imperfect
(well, perfect for me.)
From too much hair, sun or genes
maybe- just aching to touch.

I wanna boy whose eyes dart
quick, but blink slow.
Eyes’ lashes and brows heavy like
lips forming a message.
They will wink at me, naturally.

I wanna boy who knows his way
¬¬around a library, but will still let me
find his book. I want him to know
everything, but not feel like saying it.
(unless I want to know).

I wanna boy who makes quiet noise,
rustling, during a film or lecture.
He will pay attention, but not
get annoyed when I can't anymore
and rub my back till it's over.

I wanna boy who will ask, whisper,
If it’s awkward to help someone
who looks like they need help?
And then will go with me to do it
After we both decided it was.

I wanna boy who likes New England Winters
And Summers and Springs and Falls;
who pictures the perfect beach with grey sky,
rocks, seaweed and waves;
or at least involving salt water.

I wanna boy who doesn't say sorry to me
for swearing, because he doesn't often.
I want him to know I like the F word
and say it at the right times. (Or at
the wrong times, then give me that look.)

I wanna boy who will make me do my homework
but make me feel better afterwards
if I don't. At the time though, bribe me with
positive incentives of the future and his love
(laughing, we know his love wouldn’t stop).

I wanna boy who will hate romantic comedies
because of how they portray
men, relationships, and women.
I will say the same list opposite.
And we will deconstruct misogyny.

I wanna boy who fits with me perfectly
makes me feel quite loved and pretty.
Bites me soft in nice places and
other things concerning mouths
concerning other places.

I wanna, most necessary,
boy who is something I can’t
imagine. All too real, he’ll
make my heart beat faster,
and my tummy feel scrambled
(but make sure to rub it after.)

Trust comes like waves
If I were a beach.
(But I’m not.)

Calm sinks like stones
If I were a lake.
(But I’m not.)

Love bursts like hot cement
If I were the rain.
(But I’m not.)

Water would keep me
If I were in need.
(And it does.)

I am simultaneously locked, frozen and free.
I am under a magnifying glass despite, or rather since,
I’m huge. And I can be heard, learned from,
but most importantly, seen, from miles
away. Miles away until I sleep, while
everyone, but most importantly, that
one, can sleep until she’s pleased.

But I can’t sleep, and that rots
the brain. The heart, the senses,
I can feel it all. I can’t feel it
when I’m standing but when I’m
laying down- I can be it all.

I am not afraid of myself.
I am simultaneously locked, frozen…
but free?

Red Lace Is Something
I’ve only ever heard about.
Never seen.

Big Hips, Tiny Waist
Isn’t real in my world.
Just TV.

Tight Seamless Dresses
And a flattering sillouhette:
Flattery?

Danger: Curves Ahead,
Comparing me to thrilling.
Not me.

Real Women Have These:
It’s either me or my best friend.
Always neither.

Bossom Buddies, Close Knit
Shower buddies using soap.
Never clean.

Like I am treading lightly on snow wanting to leave no prints.
Like feeling my hand tense up holding a pen too tightly, and then wringing it out.
Like pouring water into a glass and seeing it drip down the pitcher’s outside.
Like the hum of a middle-letter against my teeth.
Like the words used explaining something to a stranger’s child.
Like feeling cloth on a body part that can’t feel.
Like touching my lips with a hand that’s asleep.
Like the compressed air noise before I shut the last bit of car window.
Like the hot metal radiator lines denting my skin.
Like fabric marking my cheek when I sleep.
Like the low of my back hot after a nap
Like trying to find a cozy way to lean in my coat.
Like the silence when an unnoticed heater shuts off.
Like the way dried wet-paper wrinkles and stands.
Like a tea bag set out from steeping, now cold.
Like ******* on a lemon slice, and swallowing a seed.
Like listening to filter noises underwater in the pool.
Like the screeching of a T car dulling to a rumble.
Like a sigh after a confession.
Like the sound a fly makes hitting a wall.
Like not remembering what day of the week it is out of school.

I like it.

I want to be cool
Like ice, no, like
Breeze- unattached.

I want to breathe life
Into others’ lives-
Bring them to tears.

Apathy is cool
When you don’t care
To get hurt or pain.

Passion is cool
When you give life
To things through your pain.

Sunshine is cool
And you bring light and
Cast it through the panes.

Cloudiness is cool
And you fog up and
Distort, to question things.

What is not cool
Is effecting nothing;
Then you are nothing.

What is not cool
Is feeling nothing
When no one cool’s around.

I have an unknown happiness,
From the bottoms of lakes and roots of apple
Trees, fish swim by and inch worms
On Branches. My Happiness stretches and inches along.

My Happiness is afraid of turning corners, and eats limes
And lemons. My Happiness puckers and pouts.

I have an unknown happiness.
It favors beige trench coats that protect it
From the rain, and snow, and weather vanes.
My happiness runs marathons, collapses in ditches,
Covered with quilts it sewed and knitted.

I have an unknown happiness,
Would you like to become acquainted?

I would never use butterflies
to describe how you make me feel:
Too predictable.

I would never use the weather
to describe our times together:
Too consistent.

I would never use love letters
to describe our conversations:
Too eager.

I would never use poetry
to describe how you make me feel:
Too bad.

when the wind outside is like this
(knives and coarse and salt)
and inside heat comes from chemicals
(radiation, or an orange glow)
only humans are real, and can be touched
(me and you and them);

or better yet, humans can touch
(arms and legs and mouth)
and in this weather, want to dole out
(gratification, or for just ‘cause)
only the sweetest: blankets and yarn
(hands and hugs and kiss).