velcro wallet
was navy, i think
gray plastic zipper
grandma gave you
i had a locket
it had your picture inside
but you threw it away
because you looked like a rabbit
apparently
hair fluffed, eyes puffy
two teeth and two hours
of squirming on a photo booth

plastic coin pouch
small crayola blue
walmart sticker on a side
but it never made me smile
not like that piggy bank did
yard sale treasure
dinosaur-shaped
no smashing to withdrawl
our tooth fairy dollars and dust
still, you crammed stink bugs
down the long neck's back

now, a denim bag on my bed
rhinestoned one in the closet
and your wallet is
real leather, i think
has superheroes on it
rough and grungy
as the comic books in the attic
or, did you toss those too?

who needs a screwdriver
without a *****?
that's all money was
just hardware we didn't have
much use for
but there is more than one way
to use a tool
so here, i'll paint it straighter
who needs a coffin without a corpse?
especially when we were
so full of life back then

Lyrics in her face
blaze, from screen to mouth
bony thumb, scrolling
mumbling into an ancient microphone
hanging from the rope swing
in her garage.

Voice shakes here, shivers there
but ****
she is soulful.

Authentic, exquisite
in holey socks and wet hair
and goosebumped arms
getting swallowed by a hoodie.

*******, she has it all
and gives it nothing.

Some of us are simply stunning
no spray tans or updos
no sequined skirts or stiletto shoes
no autotune or makeup kits
no words-

only nothing
could improve her.

Nothing could improve her.

"enough to make the angels weep,"
you sigh through the ash.

“you still believe in angels?”

“nah." we glow red from this rooftop
sparks melt into the milky way.
"but i might believe in handsome devils.”

i roll my eyes and punch your arm
you smile, crooked as the moon.
the ember of your cigarette flares
a chameleon to the skyline.

at last we can
blame our tears on the smoke.

i woke with a **** and
a windpipe full of butterflies, so i
swallowed them down to my chest
my stomach and below and
it was then that i realized
they weren't butterflies
but backward flies
that turn to maggots and
eat dead things

so it was then that i realized
i was dead, in between that
chasing-my-breath consciousness and
sepia splotched dream
which featured my favorite
human being
waking me, winding me
up...

hey saige, come on, so i
unlocked my eyes
even though i knew it was my
little brother
all along...

bright
cobwebbed windows at my
feet and
brighter fringe above me
brushing my forehead, like fingers
he leaned
over me, nudged me
hugged me, come on
saige...

i began to rise, which is why
he stopped me, that's when he
kissed me, and that's when i
forgave him
because i knew it was
an accident
except for, that was when
he did it
again...

my lips inside his, and
i kept my eyes
open
kept telling myself to
just kiss back, since we'd
already ruined everything, because
that was all he
wanted
because maybe
we could go back, maybe we'd still be
inseparable if
i hadn't screamed, enough!
maybe nightmares
are second chances at
being better
best friends...

i was torn
worn threadbare and i felt it
in every fiber of me
lying there, but i couldn't
pull away and i've
never wished to hurt him, so i
couldn't push, either
just clamped my eyes
shut, as he did the same
with his mouth...

and that was when
i woke
without a soul nor a shame
save for the maggots
in my veins

no count-downs for birthday parties
no arm wrestles, no jump shots
no go-cart donuts
not even a snowball

where did we go?

blond hair
up to my shoulders
surrounded by jewels
some empty-paned picture frame
couple sprouts beneath a pine
saying "monkeys" for Grammy's kodak
red clay on your feet
pink frosting in your teeth
me, sheathed in my favorite shirt
"I'm the big sister!"
with a butterfly depicting
what I've yet to become

how wrong have we gone?

well, I'll be twenty
once spring rolls around
and brother
you're not far behind
I can't tell time
to change its mind
but I promise you
it won't be changing mine
from the photographs, scrapbooks
I'll forever feel your laughter
just like goosebumps
the brail I'm reading into
let's gaze past glares
straight through white sunbeams
spiking your brown eyes
twice as deep as mine
the truest shades
on the face of the earth
to this very
foggy day
this mirror, this moment snagged
before shutters snap
and capture us, splatter us
on matte paper, or cell screens
with brown hair
up to your shoulders

way to go, little brother
but I'm still keeping that tee
because the only thing
I've always been proud to be
is your big sister

when he left
all the oxygen in your lungs
was replaced by the sea
no one ever told you
humans can breathe
underwater.

but now he whispers
that your voice is louder
than the riptide in his eyes
and promises that
someday
he'll let you tell him the
story
of the boy
who went to war
and lost atlantis.

understand that
water
takes on the shape of its
vessel
and he is
sixty-five percent
fluid
hold him.

bury yourselves
together
as one drop
in one ocean
one hundred
more times.

he is
seven percent blood rushing
half a percent beating heart
and it doesn't sound like much
but it's
enough.

you're shore
if only for
tonight.

should she have
thrown her wish at the stars
or down a well?

her hair in cigar smoke ringlets
her eyes were the guinness
the journey, her passion
the boy, her poison
the liffey winked with antidotes

black glass with white lights
why do rivers mock the sky?

her hair in her vision
her voice in a bird cage
a swan on a sailboat
not a soul on the ferry

on another coast
amid the day before
and the one that followed
seafoam clashed with clouds
came full circle
as her favorite dead end

she raised
then rolled
her eyes

blue waves with gray wisps
why do skies mock the river?

she didn't go over
nor to the end
she just went against the grain
of the rainbow
only she could spot

and then
she stuffed her hands into her pockets
and
she threw her wish
away

I knew her

Looked like she'd dabbed blush on
Her eye sockets instead of
Her cheeks
And her hair was kinda dark, kinda stringy
She hadn't seen the sun since winter,
At least
But, never thought I'd see her lips
Go bluer than her eyes, but hey
Guess I coulda closed mine
Kinda like her folks did, long ago
First time she begged 'em to,
(ma, don't peek!)
Like it was some kinda surprise
A magic trick, more like
Vanishing act
That left the whole crowd
(all seven lanes of traffic)
Gasping, guessing,

Was she real?
Was she ever here at all?

Well, I was her
I think

this is heaven to me
this isn't happening to me
he is too good to be
next to me

beside the pane
i watch the stars from
the one i trace
raindrops down
and open when
it snows
alone

but not for once
not for now
this nightfall comes
together

i pull him close
and want him closer
who cares where heaven is
when there's an angel in
my room

her body. beneath mine. sprawled out like. a whole new world. and a home planet. all in one. no wonder i'm. crash landing into.
her

Sure, I put the rouge in your eyes
And that apple in your throat
But relax, little boy
This is not a backstabbing
I am simply returning
Your godforsaken rib

"This sounds crazy," I warn above the drums. "But this song... It makes me feel like jumping off a cliff."

Like a whip, his bangs nod beside me. "That's 'cause it's not a song," he says, then belts the chorus. "It's an anthem."

Thanks to that velveteen tone he
saves for me
And his turpentine diction,
The cliches that made my eyes roll
Now make my heart rush

Nonetheless, my thoughts riot as follows...

(When urged to call him something cheery
something no smile can wane at
like that fleck of gold in his left iris)
Well, "sunshine" should suffice
And Latin for that equals
"Apricitas"
Which phoneticized equals
"Opry cheetahs"
So the obvious endearment here is
Opry

(When urged to call him something pure
perhaps upon watching him blink
or blush
or blow
cigarette ringlets away from babies)
"Snowflake"?
No, that's a slang for ***** these days
So, "raindrop"
Yes
If Latin is dead,
It sure knows how to haunt me
"Gutta imbrium"
Ember
My little ember
The only glow in all this charcoal

(When urged to call him something pretty
when he's brushing his hair
or allowing me to arrange red clovers
in his sideburns)
Hm, let's testdrive "moonlight"
Let's shift into Latin, "luna lumen"
Thus the nickname I bite back is
Lulu

/Lulu/
While I hear darlings and dearies
on the daily
Why must I fail to mirror him?

(When urged to call him something sweet
like the butterscotch kisses he whispers
into my knuckles)
Like a honeycomb
Or as Ceasar would say, "cera mel"
Close enough?
Caramel?
Carousel?
Dizzy, then

We spin
In silence

(When urged to call him something cute
with his cap on sideways
and his head in my lap
and the world at my heels)
Kitten
Catalus
Catapult
Half of that backwards might as well be
Tulip
Two lips
Two tongues
Too much, yet never enough of his
Smoke bomb pomegranate mouth

For heaven's sake, see?
That's why I kiss instead of speak

And therefore?
Your eyes are marble
Your heart's a boulder
You saw Medusa in the curtains
I believe you
Nonetheless
You are a stone
I cannot skip

He can be my
Sunshine
And I can be his
Icarus
'Cause I'm already his
Lazarus

Every night,
He brings me back
To life

Can I bring him back
This time?

i'm home with my
cheek on your chest
head caught in clouds of
your hair
mixed with mine

i'm home
with your arms around me
over me, under me
rocking me, raising me
anchoring us
home

if i am a creature
capable of love
sure as sunlight blinds,
i love you.
so much that
loving you
might just be
my purpose.
and once,
i dared to think
that it was.
once,
before i became
a creature
who lost sight.

and all the teardrops
speckling your shirt
are just sparks from the torch
i should have passed down
long before now

Dumber than a bag of rocks
on its way to a fountain floor,
we sat like pretzels on a sewer pipe
ignoring coins in lieu of
watching stars, you watched the cars
and swore
I wasn't heartless

And ****
that really took me back

We shut our eyes until they leaked
and the highway was the ocean
oregon's chill, a seaside breeze

We grew wings

And your hair slapped
my cheek
splashing, dripping, laughing
And I couldn't hear a thing
yet it was music all the same

Now, dryer than the barbs in my knees
on the phone, on the run
You swear I'm still not heartless
just that same old stupid ***
And I know
we're finally coming back

you offered me sprite
in a glass bottle
and a blunt
in a spiked lemonade roll
and a record
and a ride
and a gown
and a break
and a way
to make
it out of this town
alive

although
the only thing i took
was the seat you offered me
that seat
beside yours
the one thing i won't
give up or
pass down, so

together
we waste away
into grass almost
as green as
a glass sprite bottle
busted on the road
popping our tires
like packing bubbles

we weren't made to
make it very far

What it feels like to fear
he'll **** his own god
and that's what she is
his name leaving her lips
is gospel.

She doesn't believe in god
but she believes that she would
go to hell if it existed
and there she would have
an iv jammed in her jugular
full of the blood
of the people she killed
coagulating with hers
caught in her circulatory system
like frozen water
in a garden hose.

The veins in his wrist
are green like copper
deceptively dull
hiding the wolf
howling in his pulse.

They were special
they were the snowflake
that caused this avalanche.

Wish i could pen you down
so some breathing thing
might someday read
the myth I couldn't
finish

come on...
Wish I could pin you to
your father
-'s favorite fever dream,
a prophecy

and karma...
Wish I could pin you on
some fiddy
                        wish
                bones
        ­     i
broke

an honor...
Wish i could pin you like
a purple heart
across my real one
did you feel it?

Wish you could've
pinned me down
and taken what
you needed

to
          be
                    free
           of
me.

And I'll admit,
I've even wished
to pin you down
and ask you why
you didn't

except...

you did,
hm?

(you've a lot to teach
this breathing thing)

this is a poem
i'll write before you go
so maybe i'll be healed
by the time the bruises show

here i sit, by your bed
imagining
my chest
caving in, waking up
              with
               my
             heart
across the city, and

your room already feels
like a museum

still better than a tomb
(like mine is)