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wraiths May 10
i am a teddy bear stuffed      full
of incompetent
my body lays limp and lifeless

—why can't i do anything right?

i am a honeybee
while all the others flit home from flowers
i      hover          in the air
gossamer wings fluttering
               as i wonder
which direction
                              i came from

—some days i think i wasn’t meant for this world

i am the robin’s egg that fell from the nest
i am the sheep that grew no wool
i am the fish that drowned
wraiths May 6
I remember drinking cranberry juice from a glass cup.
You’d taken the jug from the fridge without even asking me -- you already knew.

I remember smiling with cheeks full of Polish pierogies,
swinging scrawny legs from the kitchen barstool.

I remember passing around a bottle of sparkling grape juice on New Years,
taking swigs not because I liked it, but because it was our tradition.

I remember sipping English Breakfast tea from porcelain teacups,
and salmon, and balsamic vinaigrette dressing, and cheese fondue.

I remember our voices as we laid in bed with the lights off,
speaking our fantasies as whispers to the shadowed ceiling.
wraiths Mar 29
Let me be your rosy-cheeked
baby, a cherub under cotton sheets.

Run your fingers through my hair
like a honey-sweet breeze

through tall grass, and envelop me
in your arms, your favorite flower,

as the rain outside sings of our love
and tings against the old gutters.
wraiths Mar 4
There's a band playing. They're not very good but
very loud and I can't understand what the singer is
saying. No one in the crowd knows the words.
The amps crackle and the singer growls and I feel
the vibrations churn in my stomach.

There's a fireplace in the room.

People bob around me like buoys, dance and push
and crash into each other like waves. I try to hold
my ground and plant my feet but their bodies lean
into mine anyway. I'm pressed between a door
and a staircase and I can't help but think that if I
fell I might get trampled and smashed into the
ground with my bones sticking out at the wrong

There's a fireplace in the room. It's made of red
brick and stacked almost to the ceiling.

I'm holding a can of beer and I learned that I
really don't like the taste of beer but it fits against
the otherwise empty palm of my hand so I hold it
and drink it anyway. Someone spills their beer in
my hair and I learn that I really don't like beer but
especially not in my hair.

There's a fireplace in the room. It's made of red
brick. I imagine what it'd look like lit, with a
family circled around it in the wintertime.
wraiths Mar 3
I am a jagged mound of rock,
lopsided and odd—
not shaped enough, not polished down

I will make myself into a Greek goddess
for you, with glazed eyes
and no arms to match.

I’ll take a chisel to my hard exterior,
cut out shards from rocky flesh.
Watch as the fragments crack and fall     away;
like dead leaves they’ll spiral—

I hack at my stone skin
and as the shards cry out,
                              so do I.
I weep but only pebbles flow
and nick my face.

                         When I am done,
maybe there will be nothing left
at all.
wraiths Mar 3
i hold your jewel in my mouth,
press my tongue against it gently

like it’s candy. you look at me, lips parted like
a pink flower and blooming with lust. you cup my face

with your hands and i tremble—let them tread my skin
like a hillside, hold my body like it’s glass-blown.
wraiths Mar 3
I grip the steering wheel as my car bumbles
down the twisted road, high beams dancing
off the grey trees.  I’m saturated in darkness.
My dashboard glows faintly and the heat
struggles to pour from the old vents.  I’m kept
warm by my love.  I brake at a stop sign and
turn left past the little green farmhouse.  It’s
been months but the drive’s still muscle
memory.  Missed these nights where the
emptiness is palpable in the car.  The hollow
space envelops me like a blanket.  Holds me
like you did minutes earlier.  I swerve around
a run-down barn that protrudes onto the road.
Turn left again.  See that the neon sign of the
bar is still illuminated.  A warm orange
against the cold darkness.  Glimpse the way
the fiery droplets spill from the glowing beer
tankard.  Flickers like a candle but doesn’t go
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