There is something about a Martini,
A tingle remarkably pleasant;
A yellow, a mellow Martini;
I wish I had one at present.
There is something about a Martini,
Ere the dining and dancing begin,
And to tell you the truth,
It is not the vermouth--
I think that perhaps it's the gin.

the sad truth of it all
is that if your cover
is not pretty
no one will want to
read your contents

It's a fragile balancing act
To stay on track

With all these
Attractions
Detracting
From my
Distractions impact

Its impact
On the blurring depictions
Of pictures burned
In fictions past

Frames so perfect
They cracked

Floundering on the brink

The rain storm
Emboldening

Flexing to break free

Go ahead and rain on me
Go and raise the streams

Go ahead and drain from me
Go and take my steam

Splish splash
Gonna change my ways

Pish posh
Better move out the way

Split splat
To the slip slap

This ...
To that

Thunder claps
After the fact

Gon have to pay

Gonna build my base
Goin to make my stay

Gone and done
Going to go away

Wait it out
For a sunny day

Was it worth it?
Only 3 weeks old and I have a name.
Embryo.
Week 4 I’m hard at work creating my umbilical cord and basics of my body. By the end of this week I’m the size of the period at the end of this sentence.
Not the one you just missed.
Week 5: my heart is beating… you’re still drinking.
Week 7: you’re sick. And it’s not the hangover you thought I was.
Week 9: congratulations! You have the honor of hearing my heartbeat, like you care. You’re still on some strangers couch with the strong sent of smoke on your sweater.
I’m the size of the olive in your martini from this morning.
Week 10: New name. Fetus. I finally look somewhat human...My brain is trying to create 25,000 neurons every minute but you’re making it so hard mom…
Week 11: my vital organs are all there. So my risk of defects should be decreasing and become less susceptible to outside influences... so much for that
Your headache? That’s me. You still don’t know the pain I’m in...
Week 12: I can swallow. Good thing I’m not actually using my lungs. Unlike yourself. “Oh, just another drag... What’s the harm?” I guess you never learned the golden rule.
So here we are, week 21. I’m the size of your beer.
Two weeks later… My lungs aren’t ready... 11 ½” I weigh the size of the Harry Potter book I imagine you reading to me. And I am as long as one too. I hope you enjoyed all that sleep you have been able to have... I’m coming...
Child birth classes? Didn’t even cross your mind. And I’m losing more and more of mine. Just keep inhaling that precious smoke.
My brain looks like the mold in the back of your fridge.
I felt so alone before, but at least I was in my own space. Somewhat protected.
Well here I am, in this world already addicted.
You raised the stakes. So tell me mom,

was all that fun worth it?

I came
I saw
I felt it all

And stopped

I stepped to stars
Where I joined
In being apart

And I came to in a crowded room
Confused but lucid

But that world
That world I knew

I lost it

So I started
Building it new
In the bruising fruits
Of my labor

While I slept

Knowing
I would
Always
See you
Again

[No Regrets]

Please don’t purge me along with your winter coats
In a box by the curb marked “Spring Cleaning”
I know it’s time to lighten your load
But trust me
I’ve been so starved you won’t even notice
Me hanging around your neck like a noose
I won’t ever have the strength to tighten