a collection of spices,
rose petals, and orange rinds,
mixed in a bowl. We smell sweet,
but we’re dried and old. We look

pretty, my lavender and your
red berries. But we are caged
like two canaries. We had our days
before we were plucked, skinned

and shucked. Was I the one that
wanted more than to be bagged and
stored in your bedroom drawer? Sachets
tied with purple ribbons, only to sit

with misgivings and pairs of your
Argyle socks. Not plated on the bone
China like bagels and lox. Just tossed
together like yesterday’s slops.

is a nest
full of stinging hornets. I wear
the welts like notches in her
draw of belts. Large red bumps
from all she's lumped on me,
making my head a knotted tree.

Her tongue
Is a stiletto
born in the ghetto,
slicing right through me
like a roll of salami. As she bears
down her knife I grow smaller
with every slice.

Her tongue
is a revolver
shot out of her mouth
in rounds. I cannot absolve her
of the crime. Words are weapons
bleeding through me all the time.

from where you are,
If you're standing in a forest
of trees, far as you can see
everything looks emerald green.

If you’re sitting in a plane
high above the ground
what you'll see drifting by
are cotton ***** of clouds.

If you’re a vampire
your days are charcoal black.
You’ll not know the warmth
of the sun shining on your back.

You think from all you know.
A two-year-old is the center
of his world. He hasn't aged.
But give him time; he'll grow.

You think from how you're treated.
If you've been beaten by the hand
that feeds you you'll wear your scars
like stars on a flag, and see life
as a drag.

You think from where you live.
A fish hasn't breathed the air
or soared in a cornflower sky.
He'll not know what it's like to

have the wind whipping through
his feathered wings like the eagle
when he flies. He doesn't sing  
a melodic song like the oriole.

All he sees is the sea
for miles and miles. He swims and
eats and mulls. Or is swooped up
by the sharp beak of the gulls.

word
dropping a letter
she can't
she didn't
she met her wall

Broken
pledges
falling off ledges
smashing the pavement hard
living in a house of cards
Joker
roll her/smoke her shards

Broken
pieces
chipping off every day
flaking like a *******
try not to smack her

Broken
woman
will break you

Broken mirror
splitting up your face
shards of what you are
the you you cannot chase

Broken
You
Breaks up all the lines
the rules
drinking cherry wine

Broken
Down
Build
Back up

they say
it isn't you.
Words are hair spray.
Don't let them stick in your head.
Don't give them power!
Wash their dirt off in the shower.

No matter what
they do
it isn't you.
It's their projection,
in the glass.
Their own reflection,
as they pass.

No matter what
they spread,
it isn't you.
Their rumors
are twisted tumors.
Don't let them grow.
Radiate!
And then they'll slow.

No matter what
they are
it isn't you.
They're jealous
because you follow
your own rules.
You make your own plans.
You take a stand.
They sit with their distraction,
watch and take no action.

were autumn leaves. From a snap
of cold turned golden yellow
to mud brown, twisting off
falling to the ground.

Her colors
bled out in a wink
from the wash, the crimson red
to salmon pink. From bright to
dull, the sort you didn’t cull.

Her colors
peeled like an orange rind
as she was sectioned. Men
chewed her up and spit out
the seeds.

Her colors
chipped standing
in the sun. She's brittle. Flaking
she'd whittle into dust. Flying
off in a flurry.

Her colors
cracked. Someone
took an axe and hacked
her walls.

her tongue.
She spews words out!
She's so high-strung.

She doesn't hold
her temper too.
Her head is thick
like grandma's roux.

She doesn't hold
her mother's attention.
In school she’d wind up
in detention.

She doesn't hold
her end up.
But thinks herself
a real bang-up!

She doesn't hold
it all together,
floats like a dead fish
or gull's feather.

She doesn't hold
hands.
The lady's a *****,
and doesn't make plans.