Stab the can with a key.
Hold it sideways, so it doesn’t leak.
One. Two. Three.
Tabs popped, cans up.

Gulp down that goodness,
Until your half crying from the foam and try
Not to puke.

They say the devil
quotes scripture
in his red velvet
bathrobe, as he haunts
his own hallways,
with a voice that poisons
orchids and entices
the masses.

There are ponds
In the valleys
Off of which
Steam floats in summer
The way steam floats
From your lips in winter.

There are mountains
Above valleys
Beneath which
There are boulders,
Strong as your shoulders.

Both make me feel small.

There’s a warmth
That wraps the valleys
And the mountains

When the sun hovers

And there’s a warmth
That wraps my bones
And my waist

When you’re beside me.

Holding water in her mouth,
She looked about to cry
The salt inside would eat her up
And leave her raw and dry.

She could indeed just knock it back
And swallow up the sea,
But this would give an endless thirst
That would not let her be.

You’d think why not just spit it out
Onto the golden sand,
Push through your lips that salty gulp
Erase the pain at hand.

But all she had to quench herself
Was this Pacific’s best.
She’d rather die this way in fact
Than drown like at the rest.

The evening swells slowly,
Growling at the fleeting heat.

I’m unafraid of the night that moans.
I howl my own dark lullaby to exhume the moon.

The ache of deep thunder rests in my chest and
Reminds me I’m smaller than even a star
That glints meekly on a black velvet gown.

I melt like the ink of the sky on the end of a day.
I dissolve like the flakes of snow in the rays of the sun,
To feed the earth
And beneath.

The sea drinks me down, and me it.
Every creature below was once mine.
Now we share in this gorge that splits land
And we see we are kin.

The garden’s purr is ripe with dragonflies,
While sun drips down and licks my freckled cheek,
Then sinks by inches, seconds at a time.

The sky turns pink with specks and lines of green.
The man inside the moon grows restless yet,
When day has died the night will reign supreme.

The creatures of the night let down their hair,
Stretch out their limbs and bask in dark delight,
While fireflies explode newly unchained.

The stars that hid glow bright to prove their life,
While eyes of mine grow cloudy, tired, and shut.
Still blind to all the myst’ries of the night.

I lie down flat, avoiding hills of mud,
Till dark runs out inviting back the sun.

A little lamb with hooves of black
Asleep atop rich bales of hay
As heavy thunder fails to wrack
A little lamb with hooves of black
The stallion’s ropes - once taut - lay slack
As braids of rain untie and spray
A little lamb with hooves of black
Asleep atop rich bales of hay

It seemed like love
took it’s time
with you and I.

We waded in grey
for it to decide
if motives were pure
and when love was sure
it gave us each other
and more.

It gave more than I knew
you were capable of.
There was power behind
those warm hazel eyes.

And I

was no match for the magic

that was you.

In 5th grade the boys
Would kick daisies
Behind the library
During lunch.

I sat on a hill
Quietly watching
Flowers shatter
In the air.

The bell would ring
And the boys would leave
And I'd dance in that golden mist
As it settled.

I’m thankful for the way you look
In bed after you rise.
You blink like you’ve just been reborn
Then reach and rub your eyes.

I’m thankful for the smile that grows
Across your glowing face.
It rouses me like morning should
With ease and heat and grace.

I’m thankful for your sleepy hands
That slip between my thighs.
“Good morning” pours from woken lips,
Your cheer a ripe surprise.

I’m thankful for your body there,
The way it takes up space,
But opens up to bring me in,
A deep sunrise embrace.

It’s no end, nor a start
where I am and you aren’t.
It’s not fair that my heart
lives so far, far apart

from its home here inside
where it beats and it thrives,
but it’s still so alive
with you there by its side.

So I wish I could say,
to the heart that I gave,
sit up straight and behave,
but it’s lost its poor way.

Now it cries in your palm,
though it’s safe and it’s warm
and the storm will soon calm,
but these days are so long.

Splash.
I'm lodged in your vein.

Blood oozing from your now

punctured skin. From the polished,

wooden floor, to your plump big toe, I dart.

My fingernails clawing at your cells, keeping

my thin slice of a body imprisoned within. Soon tears

will flow with blood and I'll try to hang on longer. Hang on

until silver tongs rip me up. I'll take palm-fulls of your injured flesh as souvenirs. My presence will stay, covered by a cloth, slowly seeping

deeper, turning your muscles green, suffocating every

plea for health. Infection will spread like the cracks

in that polished, wooden floor that gave me life.

Your arteries will begin to tighten until your

limb altogether becomes useless. It’s

funny how someone as puny as

me can have such a huge

effect. Maybe you

should wear

shoes next

time.