when does your family stop being
your family, when you decided they
don't need to know your whereabouts
or who you're kissin',
when mama interferred
for the last time and you
drove the lonely 12 minutes
from his house to yours wishing
you made more sense, wishing
you didn't hurt so much over
every **** thing, so you're
tellin' god no more ultimatums
no more dark drives where you're
cursin and profanin his name

but when do you draw the line
when their home ain't your own
and your house big as empty feels
always warm but filled with you
and you're always far too much
too much thought, too much
water, not enough wood
he says you immediately told
your mom and i did, which got
me thinkin' about whether families
are comprised of just one, and if
I could be my own, if you need
two, if a dog counts
if there are rules
or just a hand on my back
if God's a good lead then
i'm pushing right back

the rain is making small rivers
in the parking lots and crosswalks
I could drown in one on accident
or get struck by lightning
the thunder is so strong that
a painting could fall off the wall
and crack my head open
this is all so terrifying
I feel small, like a child
(I am insignificant)
-

you know that way that cars are cold
and the bite of 18 degrees gets under your skin
the way your chest dimples in, and the pores
around your ******* forget to breathe, your body
shrinks in the morning breeze

the way the fog turns red above Florence's lights
and the next town over looks like it's on fire, the
mountains hide in a thick of snow and you can
feel their chill in your very bones?

I will always sleep with my windows open, in the
heart of winter and the palms of summer. I like
the way I feel small in the winter, i like the way
I feel small in the winter.

there was a girl
with a chipped tooth
and holes in her stockings.
she hides behind a veil of hair.
stupid boys will
touch her
and she can only stare
at the ceiling
cracks.

the anonymity
of our crowded cafe glances
grows stale
sitting in my memory

forgive
my hesitation
the crack
of my rusted smile
the escape
of my gasp
It has been a while
I'd almost forgotten
how to laugh