A knot
Is never just a knot
A knot
Is a problem
Meant to be undone
Or a solution
Holding something together
And never anything between

There is a knot
Between you and me
I extend toward you
And you toward me
And we get tangled
And I don’t know
If it is a good knot
Or a bad knot

*ojc

I thought about always
On the train that day
As I rushed across state lines
To be by your side

And I thought about always
When I got your calls from jail
Counting down the days
Until I could hold you again

And I thought about always
When I had doubts
After coming face to face
With your addiction
Watching you weaken in a way
I didn’t know was possible
For a substance I don’t understand
But that knows you all too well.

But always means
The fight is no longer yours
It is ours

And always means
I love you through the weakness and pain
And monitored phone calls
And thin glass dividers
That might as well be miles thick
Because either way
I can’t touch you.

And always means
You're the only one
Who could ever make me brave enough
To think about always


*ojc

Beer cans roll in the wind
On the roof of my apartment building
Sometimes I swear inanimate objects
Have ulterior motives

Whose lips ****** relaxation
Out of that can?
Whose hand crushed it into a crumpled wind instrument
And left it lying on the ground
When it had nothing left to give?

When, if ever, will the wind blow it down
From this rooftop onto the street below?
Then where will it go?

You won’t understand me
Until you swim to the bottom
Of my deepest darkest ocean
And take something with you
Back to the surface

And you climb to the top
Of my highest proudest mountain
And let yourself fall
All the way back down

And you give yourself
To the storm that perpetually brews inside me
Let it tear you to shreds

And you go to my most fertile place
And let me restore you.

And you excavate me

Then tell me what you find
Because I’ve never been brave enough
To do it myself.

I have folded up this pain
And tucked it into a drawer
One that I never open
But that sometimes opens itself.

It is not often that this happens
But when it does
I take out my pain
And I fold it again.

Someday I’ll hurt again
And have a new pain
Thrown carelessly onto the floor
Crumpled and beautiful.

I will keep it unfolded for a while
And study its shadow at night
The raw sight of fresh sorrow
Lingering around me.

But then I’ll get tired of it
It will start to look ugly
Always in the way
And I will fold it.

I will put it in the drawer with the other pain
The pain that doesn’t hurt anymore
But that remains with me
Because of how it used to hurt me.

So my new pain will not be alone
And I will not be afraid of it
Because in this drawer it is mine
But in this drawer it cannot hurt me.

Fortify me with steel kisses
Of lips that are sealed
As the guardians of all my secrets

Hide me in your arms
Behind muscles that could stop trains
So long as they were hurtling toward me

Dance with me forever
To the song of our joy
That cannot be heard by anyone else

Let the rest of the world crumble
Let us even crumble with them
So long as I feel your hand in mine
I am safe

*ojc

sometimes i wonder
if the world i live in
is one i made up in my head
that exists only for me

and if that’s true
i don’t mind
because the world i’ve created
is filled with madness
but the best madness i’ve created for myself
is you

Mujeres heridas
Mujeres rotas
Mujeres violadas
No me dan

Dame las santas
Dame las perfectas
Dame las inocentes
Tocadas no sean

Tráigame vírgenes
Tráigame niñas
Tráigame flores
¿Dónde están?

No hay mujer
Que no ha sido tocada
De alguna manera
Tocadas todas están.

I have been conditioned
To submit
To sacrifice
To shut up and take it.

From the very first advances
That were a little too aggressive
To the subtle denying of my wishes
When I said stop and you said “shhh…”
When I said no and you said “why not?”
When I said I can’t and you said “please”
When I put my hand up and you pushed it away
When you thought it was romantic
To push my limits
When you thought coercion was normal
And submission was expected.
When I stopped questioning
Why your needs were more important than mine.
When your mouth said “I respect you”
But your hands said you didn’t.
When your sudden coldness
Sent chills down my spine
When your charming side disappeared
And your true self mystified me.

When I thought coercion was normal.

When I started to feel like nothing.

When my body was used
But not satisfied
Touched
But not felt.

When your laugh in the dark
Made me feel like a victim
In a horror movie

Up until I finally decided
That you are the beginning and end
Of my objectification.

You can’t feel pain
They said to the fish
They served him filleted
On a nice silver dish

You’re not a real person
They said to the slave
They whipped him and beat him
All the way to his grave

You don’t work hard
They said to the poor
They let them all starve
When they asked for more

When the slaves and the fish
And the poor were all gone
They looked at each other
And a war was on

The tears of love
Are heavy but few
They fall very rarely
But always for you

*ojc

your hands on my body
made me feel *****
                                 but I said nothing.
your lips on my mouth
stole my innocence
                                  but I said nothing.
your ugly words
made me want to run
                                 run without stopping
                                  run from the danger of a man
                                                             ­                a man with a hunger
                                                          ­                               a hunger for the parts of me that I wanted                  
                                        ­                                          to protect
with a word
                                  but I said nothing.      

I couldn't find the word
                          the word that would have saved me
it was hidden
            hidden by fear
                                fear of the threats you never made
                                                    threats you didn't have to make
                                           unless I said that word
                                                            ­        that word that rose in my throat
                                                       but couldn't shake my tongue
                                 so I said nothing.

there was always time
for laughter and making love
but never enough

*ojc

You're my warrior
The guardian of my heart
You make me fearless

At age 19, we talked about how we’d change the world.
We spoke of revolutions, of leading the masses, of burning everything to the ground.

At age 20, we talked about how we’d make it in the world.
We spoke of Bachelor’s degrees, of political discourse, of graduate school.

At age 21, we talked about how we’d survive in the world.
We spoke of refinancing our car loan, of apartments with utilities included, of budgets and personal finance.

At age 40, we’ll talk about how we can’t change the world.
We’ll speak of groceries, of laundry, of parent teacher conferences.

And it will be too late.

Maybe at age 19, our children will change the world.