when my head is stretched out
rolling in your hands? Or will you pull back
so, that I snap as a rubber band, landing
in your trash can?

Will you read me
when I line myself as a V like a flock of geese
flying above? Or will you run from
the droppings of love?

Will you read me
when your eyes are glazed
in honeydew? When your cup of coffee
is thick as stew and sticks to you
as the deodorant in your armpits?

Will you read me
when I’m carrion and the vultures
are circling? Or will you throw everything I wrote
in the flames, to heat your home –
on paper notes?

a lake
yours a ripple
I'm a tidal wave
you -
a trickle

My love is
an evergreen
yours a bonsai
so, contained are you
I rise

My love is
a whale
making a splash
yours is a seal
sleeping in the grass

My love is
a feast
yours leaves me starving
mine, a banquet for kings
when I'm with you
my stomach is growling

My new poetry book is now available on Amazon

Go here:(copy this link and paste to browser) www.amazon.com/dp/B09BGPD7GY?ref=pe3052080_397514860

what would you call me? If I wasn’t attached
to a person, as a daughter, wife, mother or friend
you couldn’t say this is so and so’s daughter, wife,
mother or friend. What if I didn’t have a job or

a hobby? You couldn’t say she does this
or that. What if I didn’t even have an address? You
couldn’t say she lives there. All of the spaces would
be blank, because there wouldn’t be anything to fill

them in with. People would wonder about
such a person like this, unhitched and uncoupled. Would I
still exist? I would still have my thoughts; I would still have
my brain. I would still be me, the same.

that once was soft. But now
is spined. Her back is lined
with spiky quills. Every barb that
jabs her is a place a man has

stabbed her. A living pincushion
that when rolled over holds herself up
by the skewers. Now water passes
through her. She doesn't get wet. But she’ll

stick to you if you touch her. And you'll
bleed a gusher for the softness. From the thorns
she's built a fortress.

like a child learning to
tie his shoelaces. Like a ***
of crowded spaghetti. Like a ball
of yarn the cat clawed. Like my wavy

hair as I brush it out. Tangled up
as the thoughts in my head, I blurt
from my mouth. Just like a fisherman’s line
on the weeds, or a kite’s

string in the trees. Tangled as the clog
in my bathtub, or my necklaces that are
in knots, thrown in the drawer. In this mumbled,
jumbled mess of tangling I find myself sparkling

from the twists and turns, knots and
mats. The muddles and snarls only make
me smile. And to straighten them out
would leave me flat.

falling from the sky. I dissolve
as I touch the bottom. I wanted to be
a sunbeam so, I can shine. Dancing between
the clouds, cutting up the sky and dripping
strawberry wine.

I’m an ice-crystal
with points prickly as a thistle. I wanted
to be sparling as a diamond. But I turned out
thin as a *****.

I'm powder dust
blowing as a sneeze, showering the earth
in a blizzard of broken branches. I wanted to be
lightening in flashes so, I can crack up the sky. Split
the moon with my hide.