When I was a girl
I thought I could be anything I wanted
I didn’t realize I would grow up
To be a woman
That I was forever ‘and her’
Instead of them
That my father loved me
As an exception
And I would have to witness my sisters
Wither away in happiness
I found out that I was not the ‘public’
In public transportation
That I needed to switch my grocery run times
Every now and then
Discovered the places where a hat
Could be the best weapon
On Sundays, I dress up and buy pretty roses for my table
To keep from remembering that
If someone wanted
There was nothing I could do to stop them

The deep woods that linger on the mountain hill
With open palms that beckon and hold
As I move across its glades of gold and jade
As the hidden bridge squeaks beneath my weight
The pines beginning to close in on the space
That was the path, crumbling into mossy lace

In that moment, it was barely visible
The red steeple of the city temple
Peeking gently through the canopy of leaves
But as the wind blew and the woodlands breathed
And the fairies of the river bank sang
The warm hand against my back began to lead me away

A stranger stopped by,
Asked how things were going
Simply put, the sun seems just as golden
The road glides easy as we drive into the next day,
The ocean breeze's just as sweet as the smiles on our face
There are no wounds, no tears
And yet, my world has shifted a few degrees
For it is the small scratch that forever bleeds
That pulls at one's existence like weeds
It's the ghost that lingers in the peripherals
It's the gasp, before the light switch is flicked on
With the lamp that swings alone, above what is truly gone
It's the wave of laughter that lacks its fourth part harmony
And it's the forgotten Christmas dinner seat.

Tangled twisted heart,
Tumbled down the road,
Like a scrappy skein of yarn

Knew to ride the gutter's trails,
To weave past boots that stomped and sneered,
Huddle in the cold, hide during hail

Stolen away its many days with the trash and weeds,
By rough desert winds, past red dust clouds,
Snagged and snipped on spindly trees

And with a thud, it hit at once, the ground,
When, with its last exhale, the wind withdrew
That I, left between terracotta clay rocks and budding anthill mounds,
At last looked up and saw, a sky so exceptionally blue