"toddler" poems
I see you there
suspended for a time
between the shadow
and the light.
You look pale
but peaceful,
in a dream state.
I rest awhile,
a shallow sleep,
then I awake
knowing…
without words
my mind whispers
it’s time
I gently wipe your lips,
brush a stray hair
from your forehead.
It’s all I know to do.
Then I sing
a cherished lullaby
hoping you hear me
hoping it wraps you in love
as my arms wrapped
around you
as a child.
I hold your hand,
kiss your forehead.
In that instant I see
and feel all you’ve been
all that is you
tiny wrinkled infant
delightful, smiling six-month old
curious toddler
proud school age
struggling teen
loving adult
realizing
we're losing all of these,
all that you've been
all that is you
then
I feel your spirit leave…
for that brief moment
I’m overcome with a calm
I can’t describe.
A gift rare and precious –
as I was there
when you entered the world
I was with you
when you left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The butterfly counts not months but moments and has time enough."
Rabinadrath Tagore
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 10:24 PM UTC
I feel like a toddler
Teetering and tottering as I take my first brave steps
Into the unknown.
We often fear what we do not understand,
But I think that instead we should try
And color our skin with hues that cannot be seen
In the standard visible spectrum.
We're making a rainbow connection,
You and I.
Can't you see the bright bridge we've built across the sky?
My shining *** of gold at the other end
Is filled to the brim with your laughter,
And I cannot wait until I can dive inside
And swim.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 4:45 PM UTC
I see the soft, charming ringlets bounce up, down, and around
As my little cousin opens her gift.
I hear the tinkling sound of her excited voice,
but feel sick to my stomach when she tells Mommy and Daddy what it is.
She squeals "Barbie!"
And I want to scoop her up and run,
Far, far, away from the little plastic doll,
On, on, onward toward a safe view of beauty.
Her ignorance is bliss, but I know better,
And I pray with a heavy heart
For that beautiful, creative mind underneath the ringlets.
I desperately ask some higher power
How we can protect her from that little doll.
What were you thinking,
I want to yell at the grown ups.
Didn't you learn from us?
Don't you know that Barbie cut open our hearts and sewed in her plastic ideal
Before they had beaten long enough for us to walk?
That she shoved sharp words in our head
Before we could string together full sentences?
That we never stood a chance,
From the moment we tore open the shiny paper
Dotted with cartoon Christmas trees?
That the "must-have" gift for a little girl
Would enslave our bodies and minds to a "must-have" torture for the rest of our lives,
And teach our brothers and classmates to look for the woman
With not enough calories in her body to sustain a simple memory,
With not enough room in her waist to hold a kidney?
Maybe it's not all your fault, you grown-ups.
Maybe you've been chained to the unattainable images for so long
That you've forgotten the shackles were even there.
But does that not scare you?
Maybe you'll remember the strain
When you see a beautiful young woman's scars,
When you hear a breaking voice speak about her friend's final breaths
At her own fragile hands filled with little pills.
But most of all, I pray to God that you won't have to remember too late,
I hope you don't have to remember when you're chained to her hospital bed
Because the insufficiency you gifted her in a shiny plastic box
Started a cycle of sinister self-hate and destructive delusion
That she cannot outrun.
I won't let you forget, because you cannot remember that way.
I won't let you forget, because she can't end up that way, like we did.
You think you gave her a pretty little toy in a shiny little package.
Didn't you learn from us?
You gave her Pandora's box.
You look at me funny,
When I replace the impossibly-sized plastic "woman" in her hands
With a toddler-sized plastic piano.
You may not remember, but I always will,
And I will dedicate my life to making sure
These beautiful ringlets will never have to.
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 1:43 PM UTC
A few days ago I was asked to describe the person I‘m in love with,
And to my own surprise, I didn‘t really know what to say.
Of course I could have talked about your attitude to laugh at really bad comedy, or how you randomly start singing songs
And how you run like a toddler
And walk holding on to your bag with your hands in your pockets, crumbled inside yourself,
And how you never talk about it, but you miss your father,
And how you get so happy when there‘s an upcoming concert,
And how you told me you were planning on only wearing band clothes (and I didn‘t tell you, but you made me so happy),
Remember? Or how you crack jokes no one understands,
And how you fall in love with so many songs and musicians,
Or how you sit on chairs the way others sit on the floor,
Or how you sometimes scribbled song names on your books because
You knew I was going to look at them and because
You wanted me to listen to your songs,
And how I‘ve never seen someone who found that much freedom in dancing drunk,
Or how you just lay there and observed people instead,
And I could go on and on,
And I‘m not saying that those reasons aren‘t good reasons to love you,
Or that they don‘t all contribute to my broken heart,
Because they are and they do.
But what I didn‘t remember a few days ago,
Was the reason why I keep falling in love with you;
The reason why I think I could have loved you forever.
I didn‘t remember all the good things you do to others without ever letting them know,
Simply to make their life better. How you pick their drunken noses,
And make up their mistakes or talk people out of hurting them,
How you‘re always there to catch others,
No matter how hard you yourself are falling,
Or how you stayed awake and talked with me countless nights because
I was too sad to fall asleep.
I want the person who‘ll love you to know that you might not show it,
But you do care. Never assume that she doesn‘t love you,
Or that she doesn‘t care, because probably she cares a lot more than
You think. Just be patient. And love her.
And give her the time she needs to open up to you, even if it‘s an eternity. She deserves it.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 3:44 AM UTC
enfold me in warmth
wrap around me
like the ozone layer
covering the earth in cloud cover
hold me tighter
than a toddler
grasping their mothers
hand, as they cross a road
love me more
than two lovebirds
nesting in spring
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 6:34 AM UTC
Like a toddler taking maiden steps
The narrow stream moves through the woods
Tripping and falling over pebbles and boulders
Chiming its silver anklets
Forcing itself in irrepressible flow
It thrusts and shoves its way down
Through thickets and a line of ferns
And the tangle of creepers and thorny brambles
Drowning the whisper of bamboo leaves
Its sweet murmur falls in my ears
As an eternal living melody
The cosmic song heard over eons
As the water sluices down the rocks
It becomes a frothing braided torrent
Producing a harsh grating roar
Like the crescendo of a tribal symphony
There it forms into a small pool
With its waves gently rippling
Where birds merrily come to take a dip
And sunning their feathers, fly back refreshed
Sometimes travelling unseen
It suddenly emerges into the open
Cutting its way through cracks and fissures
Never willing to surrender before hurdles
With a bearing immaculate in grace
It sends out waves of pure delight
What joy it is to watch the dilly dally
Of this sedate pilgrim moving to its destination
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 10:07 AM UTC
I am a fœtus
Swimming in darkness
Oblivious to the world around me
I am a new born
Opening my eyes for the first time
Taking my first breathe
Crying the first of many tears
Confused by my sight and the light around me
I am a toddler
Crawling my way across a universe made of shapes sounds colors
Overdose of senses
Too many things happening simultaneously I
Just stare around and try to make sense of this madness
I am a child
Taking my first step into childhood by standing upright
And walking around the world on my own two feet
It's the first of many steps
I will move forward to take over the world
With my eyes ears hands nose mouth
Overdose of senses
I am a teenager
Feeling my heart break for the first time
A broken friendship
A broken love
Deception in human kind
For the first time I wonder why
Why are we here?
If we suffer so much and so intensly
My heart breaks and I cry and I shake and I have no idea what is happening
Overdose of senses
I am a young adult
Wondering about the future for the very first time
Where I fit in
Will I fit in
How do I fit in
What will I do for the rest of my life?
Overdose of questions
I am an adult
Worrying about taxes and marriage and kids
I have settled down I have a career and I look back
On the days all the things that mattered were grades and friends
I am happy but is this the life I dreamed of?
Or did I settle for less than I wanted?
What would happen if I left it all now?
Overdose of questions
I am an old grandma
Relaxing eveyr morning with a cup of coffee
Next to the man who shared my life for so long
I look back on life and realize I am happy
I have made choices that lead me here and now I
Am happy
Overdose of emotions
I am a senile grandma
No one claims me anymore
I am in a care home where most people don't care
I am one of many and
I look back on my life everynight when the demons come and visit me
So I yell out in hopelessness and they sedate me
I am faced with loneliness and there are so many things I wish I had done
Overdose of emotions
Heart attack
No heartbeat
I am dead.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 8:10 AM UTC
A bubbly baby
A tiny toddler
A cute child
An intolerable teen
An angry adult
The grumpy elderly
To people around the world, no matter your age, have you ever stopped to think about how much you can learn from each different generation?
You might not get a wise piece of advice, but you can see life through a new lens tinted with the color hope, and you can gain experience without even experiencing.
Think about that next time you go to badmouth a parent, disrespect an elder, or even chastise you child.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 1:52 PM UTC
You were my perfect poem
Brief but of many lessons
Our life was the perfect paradox
For love I thought we could rhyme
You hated all I ever loved,I loved all you hated
You said dirt was clean and the sun was cold
You desired tears for years
And resisted all advances of happiness
All you hated I had to forsake
For our love was at stake
But like a toddler you had fun with my feelings
Leaving our blindest love in darkness reeling
Yet my greatest victory was losing you
My severest pain was my sweetest gain
You schooled me through experience
My all-time worst teacher
You were my perfect poem
Eternity would be short to describe the undescribable
For when my hand is strong to hold the pen
Then my heart is weak to pen the words
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 10:02 AM UTC
The desire to travel starts at birth
Such a powerful and common dream
To explore the earth
From opening forbidden cupboards as a toddler
To learning a new drinking game in a hostel in Europe.
Travel is a necessity to life,
Living properly
Almost as important as breathing
And should be as exercised just as much.
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
Sir
Jerome
Mrs
Michael
Miss
Lucy
Mister
Wendy
Ma'am
Kate
I hear all these names at once
I hear all these things at once
I can hear everything
A glass just shattered
It was loud for them
It was louder for me
Don't be rude!
"I need to get some more raspberries tomorrow-"
"Remember Harry's anniversary is next week-"
All these words combined
Making me lose my mind
"I need to get- Harry's anniversary is next week-"
" remember- some more raspberries tomorrow-"
I'm shaking
I'm being stared at
I can't see
But I know they're staring
Don't take pity
I'm used to it
There's a woman touching me
She's touching my shoulder
She's speaking in a 'can I help you ma'am?' voice
But I can't hear what she's saying
It's under-
"Get a chair!"
Water
I see her again
She's rubbing my back
I think I'm screaming
I can hear screaming
I don't know if it's me
It doesn't sound like me
But it also sounds like me
"What's up with her?"
"Don't be rude!"
The room blurs.
It fades.
Everything fades.
Then I'm outside.
The woman is still there.
She's still speaking in that stupid voice.
I wanna tell her that I'm not a toddler.
But I do appreciate what she did.
So I decide not to be rude
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 1:47 AM UTC
I fathom fatherhood
His invincible feats
When that magnanimous shadow danced
Bowing his head lowly
And my cryptic looks
Staring that pugnacious shadow
To what he's been unearthing for
A little later in the twilight of dusk
My drooling curiosity burnt in persistence
As I observed a twinkling toddler
Following the lead of his father
With merry- go rounds and exciting swings
As docile as a lamb
He embraced his daddy
Cause that was his world's best swing
And then blew his index finger in air
Spinning around everywhere
The father introduced the whole world
Without shutting him up
The next half hour passed away
And there temple bells rang
And wind blew
Everything became grave
A reverberation echoed
Together with temple bells
Rung the devotional clap
Of a son
And his father...
Worshipping..
Never ever can I fathom
The unconditional fatherly love..
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC
I peered into the future and saw
Possibilities dancing in semi-reality
like snowflakes beneath a stormy sky.
But the one before us was clear
as ice upon the frosted curved glass.
A madness has spread among
the countless peoples of the world.
A disease of the mind which makes it seem
to the sick man as if they are made
of glass. A fragile thing, so
frail and delicate they might break
upon any but the softest impact.
The afflicted, day and night, scream in fear
at any possible contact harder
than the lightest touch.
“I’ll break”, their blood-chilling screams
echo through the empty halls of history.
The world has broken in this future
like a music-box wound down to
silence. Men and women hide in
padded chambers, for fear of breaking
their porcelain forms upon a pavement
or stones a toddler could step over.
A cure for the glass does not exist,
save for a light tap to show the ill
that they are more than they believe.
Yet the sick would rather not be healed
than face the reality of their own resilience.
The world cannot hurt you, my friend,
but you yourself can hurt the world
and shatter it like a crystalline snowglobe.
Oct 21, 2018
Oct 21, 2018 at 10:54 AM UTC
He belches verses of prayer
from the acidity of his gut,
staggering upright
on two toddler feet,
he trails drunkenly
to the fridge,
scarce with only a few dented beers,
a bucketful of ice to feed him,
till the next scroungers pay-check is due.
Cracking open a frozen one,
it hisses a warrior's cry,
loud in the stillness
then dies swiftly,
as he raises the carcass to his split lip
swilling alcoholic entrails
round him gums.
Wincing slightly,
the beer half-empty in his hand,
he twitches a pink eye
in pain
as something rolls
around his jaw,
the made-of-man pinball stage
has begun a game
without him.
Gathering his saliva
into a hard bullet,
he spits the foreign object
onto splintered floorboards,
where his last tooth lands,
a final casualty
of his handsome youth.
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 4:18 PM UTC
i was born all naturally
formed in a lax factory
im actually
a hack with ******* in my nose, practically,
every day, haphazardly
stumbling home, half asleep
i cant tell whats happening
vision begins blackening
im whack like kriss kross
crack like rick ross
major brown boy to houston
be like, "yes, we have liftoff"
dont like me when i'm ****** off
cause ***** i'm bruce banner
or maybe i'm bruce wayne
either way, i got mad manners
tearing down walls like berlin
preaching like its a sermon
potential begins to burgeon
i'll cut you up like a surgeon
killing in place of coercion
so you better lower the curtain
my head and my body are hurtin
so tell me how quick does the world spin?
i'm taddling on ya, you can call me a toddler
but the snitchin n' **** is somethin im never fond of
and i never grow up, cause i'm the neverland smuggler
peter pan turns into one of my best customers
i never grew into my head, im not cocky
never had the eye of the tiger, im not rocky
growing up i never got in fights or caused a lotta ****
but presently im screaming **** the world", i've got a bone to pick
i've gotta problem and i think its the probable cause
you hold me captive, keep me trapped in your facets of laws
looks of repulsion are what cause me to brandish my claws
constant compulsions reminiscent of prodigal flaws
i've gotta problem and i think its the probable cause
see im a goblin shark i'll sink in my nautical jaws
im not a joker im a jester with lesser facades
wrought with insomnia cause drugs are american gods
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 1:39 AM UTC
A world wide phrase known so well as a lie, but as I say this to you, a lie, is the furthest it can get from the truth
I will not curl my pinkie around yours like kids do in elementary, I will not look into your eyes and say these words because that's just too simple, I will spend my lifetime making you believe
Making sure you do not have the slightest doubt in me, in us, in this ring I'm putting on your finger, this I promise to you
I promise
I will kiss the tears off your cheeks when you cry, I will tell you you're beautiful over and over and over even though I know so well that you'll deny it time and time again
I promise
That every word coming out of those soft luscious lips will be heard, never ignored, and when you feel like you're free falling down to the rock bottom of your life, I will be there, arms outstretched and ready to catch you, cradle you in my arms, happily walking you down the path of the journey you're destined to take
Whether it means carrying you on my back like a backpack, on my shoulders like a toddler, or in my arms like a newborn baby
I promise
I will never live without you
I will never let go of those bright blue eyes so detailed like the deep color of the ocean water, illuminated by a layered color palette of sunset
The gleam of your soft, smooth dark brown hair that catches my eye every time will always be mine, the coconut smell so enticing I lick my lips and beg for more
I promise
To always follow along to the orchestrated love song your voice plays for me every time you speak
To never stray from the beat of the drum your heart pounds every time you breathe or the wonderful wave of your laughter that bounces on air with every joke
To never let any challenges come between us or keep us apart because I will always find my way back to you like a lost puppy looking for it's owner, a baby bird trying to find it's mother, or a turtle making its way to the sea
You will stay a tattoo on my heart and a stained picture in my mind, never once leaving my thoughts, always in my arms
I promise
To think of you when my eyes are open and when they are closed, as the sun rises and as the sun falls, and until the day that I die, I will use every breath I have to whisper I love you
I promise
I do
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 4:25 PM UTC
Haikus: so easy
A toddler can do them! But
Not sexually.
May 6, 2010
May 6, 2010 at 3:56 PM UTC
My secrets are the size of
Planets. They smell of diesel
And magnolia, and
They fire at the inside of
My heart with nuclear arrows
The size of a toddler's
Intentions towards a
Crying mother, flowers in tiny
Hand and all.
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC
The leopard and the lion chose to become friends,
For they were all proud of claws on their paws
They each glorified one another for their mighty,
Ability to live on meat of other fauna throughout a year,
They each admired one another for running speed,
They each remained firm and loyal to one rule;
Lions don’t eat leopards neither leopards eat lions.
They felt warmth in their companionship without verve,
Until the time they initiated a certain joint venture;
To hunt an antelope as it was famed to be the sweetest,
Again, there had remained one antelope only in the world,
They dilly and not dallied anyhow about such glittering project,
They both endevoured to set forth by each dawn for a whole year,
Tediously hunting throughout a day, the lion doing a great part,
Setting ambuscades and arduously sleuthing to orient on trail,
The leopard severally fainted in the field due to exhaustion,
On one eve of christmas day, the lion captured the prey,
When the leopard was a sleep shivering in fevers of malaria,
Their prey was a middle aged female antelope with swollen hips.
The leopard was sparked to fire of life by a mysterious fillip,
He boldly requested work, now to help the lion in carrying,
The un-suspecting lion relinquished the carcass to the leopard,
Feat of shrewdness gripped the leopard, he took off
Running away with a lightening speed, the antelope on his mouth,
The lion again began to chase, shouting to the leopard,
To be a gentleman and stop running, for them to share the plunder,
The leopard never listened, he craftily climbed to the apex,
Of the most tall and most slippery tree, he perched at the peak
With the antelope on his muscular mandibles of voracity,
The lion remained at the stem, wailing like a toddler
His family does not climb trees, not even a shrub,
The lion wailed, using all styles of wailing,
Pleading with the leopard to donate even an iota,
Not even a small piece of antelope bone dropped
To drop on the ground for the lion to taste,
Human leopards are not good hunting companions.
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
You took my hand with eyes of fear
Against the fence in mud burried
Your pet... wet colorless...desolate
The lovely bird who sang to you
Who made your day when you were sad
Now still and gone
never to sing
Trying to grasp
What's after life
Leaving the body was too hard
For a toddler to understand
You said " us too ? we also die?
I tried to explain eternity
Your big eyes of woe
Crushed my heart
Colette Anne Naegle
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 3:44 AM UTC
My teacher once asked “ What’s your definition of anxiety?”
Everyone around me raised their hand and I
I... lowered my head.
I wanted to raise my hand but anxiety told me not to
It told me not to because the popular girl in the front of the class
Surrounded by all her friends
Might laugh at a loser like me
I’m not a loser but anxiety makes me feel like i lose
In any situation that I’m in
So that makes me.. a loser.
Anxiety is me struggling to fit in all the places
I know i’ll never fit in at.
It’s me putting on my skin tight jeans with my converse
Because that’s what all the other girls are wearing.
Anxiety is me crying at 3 in the morning because the kid
I like won’t talk to me, even though I’ve never spoke to him.
I’ve never spoke to him because every time I walk up to him
My anxiety throws a rope around me and pulls me back
Saying you are not good enough for him
And I start to wonder if I am even good enough for myself.
Anxiety makes me wonder if i’ll ever be capable of loving someone
Because I can’t love myself the way I need to be loved.
And that makes me scared to love.
I deleted this poem 5 times because my anxiety told me
No one would read it.
“Anxiety is like a toddler.
It never stops talking and it
Always tell you, you’re wrong.
And it wakes you up at 3 a.m”
That is my definition of anxiety.
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 9:33 PM UTC
Once there was a carnival.
It was exuberant and joyful,
With elephants and lions befriending the penguins and sea otters,
And little fairy-like acrobats leaping and zooming across tightropes,
As if they were walking on solid ground.
There was a faint smell of funnel cake and cotton candy and popcorn,
And the sound of people chatting animatedly about,
"Wasn't that act precious" or "oh, darling, look at that penguin! Isn't he cute?"
And then I got a little older.
And the carnival was still joyful, but something had changed.
The carnival had this joyful facade but it was hiding a darker exterior.
The elephants and lions were growing old, and the ringmaster,
Displeased with their best efforts,
Had started to hurt them.
The fairy-like acrobats had gotten injured over the years,
And wobbled a little bit here and there, with hints of hesitation
Perspiring on their foreheads.
The funnel cake and cotton candy and popcorn smell lingered still,
But it was almost as if people had grown tired of the taste,
And in the heat of the summer day,
The food had started to grow stale.
And then I got old.
The carnival had closed now.
Overgrown with weeds,
Stalls and tents covered in graffiti and muck,
It was now a gathering spot for children to make believe,
That they were the fairy acrobats who had once been so agile and captivating,
Or the animals that had struck terror and awe into toddler's hearts.
The carnival was gone,
but the children would run home to their grandmas and grandpas,
and they would tell them the story of how the lion was this close to biting off their nose,
and how one time the acrobat honestly did a front flip from a horse on to a bear onto a lion, and they were honest to God telling the absolute truth no matter what their spouse would say in the room next door.
The carnival was gone, but the stories would go on in a bittersweet never ending circle of intrigue and mystery and magic.
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 1:22 AM UTC
A baby clutches his mother’s dress
Unaware of how it will save his life
Unwary of the saving grace that will come to rest
The child is soft and clean
His name is Eugenius, the second of three
After Richard, before Michal
He is just a babe, no bigger than an infant can be
A toddler clutches his mother’s dress, the hem
Unaware of tragedy
Unwary of the Horror that awaits him
The child is frightened and shaking
His name is Gene, the second of three
After Richard, before Michal
He is just a little one, no taller than Mama’s knee
A child clutches his mother’s hand
Unaware from behind her skirt as they are herded
Unwary of the disaster to come from the cart
His name is Genie, the second of three
Before Mikey, after Richie
He is just a child, no higher than Tata’s knee
A boy holds his brother’s hand tight
Unaware of the danger he is in
Unwary that the coin from Mama’s skirts will save his life
The boy is healthy and strong, though not for long
His name is Gene, the second of three
Before Michal, after Richard
He is naïve, but soon to grow up prematurely
A prisoner holds his own shirt, unsure
Unaware of the pain that is coming
Unwary that he shall walk away nevermore
The prisoner is hurting and ******
His name is “Gefangene,” the second of two
After Richard, before the crimson mess
He is crying for a ****** towel carried by
A handicap clutches Mama’s leg
Aware that he cannot cry as she shuffles him out
Wary that outside her skirts is the hunt
The handicap is hurting so badly
His name is Gene, the second of three
After Richard, before the new bump
He is unwilling to believe
A kaleka holds tight to his brother’s back
Aware that he is a burden
Wary that he is a load
The kaleka is waiting, waiting.
His name is Gene, second of three
After Richard, before Theresa
The kaleka is ready for release
The dziecko holds again to Mama’s skirt
Aware that he is now free to leave
Wary that he will never be independent
The dziecko is elated and mourning
His name is Gene, the second of three
Before Theresa, after Richard
The dziecko will never be the same
Sixty five years later
Gene holds Rosie’s hand tight
Aware that he is old now, having lived fully
Wary that death is imminent at last
The great-grandfather is peaceful and content
His name is Tata, Grandpa, Gene, husband, and more
He is the last one left of his war
The survivor is ready to reunite with his family
He gives thanks to Hattie’s skirts
That kept him alive though the hurts.
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 11:09 AM UTC
Arrive in a neighborhood not mine.
Phoenix sun splits the mailboxes,
Cracked cement, bald lawns, deflated kiddie pools,
sippy cups gone brittle in the sun.
A toddler screams
until a sibling gathers him inside.
Helios whips his chariot down the street,
steals my parking space.
White Shell Woman hushes the child
with a wind of cool dust.
I buy
donuts, Cheetos, pickles-
eat them in the car.
Gas station sink, hair and grit.
I scrub off orange powder.
Kokopelli swings from the paper towel rack,
flicking drops of water onto my face,
flirting, laughing at my small hungers.
Cemetery, sitting on the hood.
Graves hum in the heat.
Yours more-so.
Hecate steps from the shadow of a mesquite,
offers me three paths,
none of them home.
Coyote pads along the stone wall,
head cocked, grin sharp,
watching my pulse quicken.
White Shell Woman whispers:
_Run._
The blood in me stirs-
knife-bright, restless.
I step off the hood,
already fleeing toward
any other life.
Aug 2, 2025
Aug 2, 2025 at 12:44 PM UTC