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Jan 2013
to me, winter is cinnamon.
dotted ceilings make me itch.
5pm tells me "sleep" -- then
yellow fills me with "home".

there is something about you
that smells a lot like January.
a lot like blinking and train tickets.
sometimes i look at you and think
about the lazy curls of y's and g's
after they've been sleeping so long on
December's hardwood floors.  

and i don't know how else to say it.
is there a word for "waking up
with bruises by a lover
who was never

what about that kaleidoscope feeling?
how you unfold all over the place
when i turn inward.
at times nonsense.
at times ugly.

a lot like sea salt on dry land,
and fireworks that bloom
in the middle of the day.
dec 2012
roanne Q
Written by
roanne Q  san francisco
(san francisco)   
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