Tuesday, September 20, 2016

September 21, 2016

Two hundred
Thirty eight thousand
Nine hundred miles
To the moon
And yet she still sleeps
with us both
every night.
Distance is nothing
With faith like the moon.

Tuesday, September 6, 2016


Last words, last rites 
Death knell poems and decaying prose
Languishing at the back of my throat 
Like the taste of bile when you've 
And you can feel whiskey and
Stomach acid,
Threatening your tastebuds
Hot and sweet saliva fills your mouth
And you can only hope to lean over a trash can
Leave the room
Or find an alley
So that you don't have to swallow again 
what poisoned you once enough 
For your body to reject it. 

"I think you're beautiful" 
Slipped with one cocked eyebrow into
"I just wish you'd be more natural." 
And conversely, "why aren't you wearing any makeup?"
"Because of your words, your stars, your galaxies..." Slipped into
"I've been waiting two years, I'm not holding my breath"
All of the why not slipped 
so lazily into why
And all of the sweet 
honey buzz in my head turned into the growing cold knot in my belly.

And now I'm turning as slowly as I can
Searching for a safe space 
A bathroom 
A dumpster 
Any place I can hunch my body 
And heave
And force you out of me for good

September 6, 2016

All that's left of us ...
I've said so many times 
it means nothing. 
All that's left is my excavation of what was 
Finding fossils of what we once were
Digging with an axe, a sledgehammer
Dusting with a fine-haired brush
Finding pieces to save or preserve or just to study 
Rabid to answer all the questions 
of death and extinction 
All I'm doing now is sifting sand 
between my fingers 
Anything left so fine and small 
you could never make out
 the animal it once was
And it's a melancholy realization 
That I'm not mourning the curves 
and arcs and curls and angles of you
But the shapeless, shifting void 
where they once were 
So frayed at the edges 
that I don't even recognize you
This is the last melancholy
 before I forget what it's like to miss you 
Before that voice stops saying 'wait'
And I'll realize soon it's been days or weeks 
Or longer 
Since I even tried to remember 

Sunday, September 4, 2016

September 4, 2016

Two years.
Twenty four months. 
One hundred and four weeks
 Seven hundred and thirty days ago
You crashed into my life
 and my body 
With no regard for my safety 
My need to be protected 
The bleeding chasms
in my damaged, destroyed heart 
You gave and you took 
And you pushed and you pulled
And at every turn you wanted me
To be nothing
And you made me need 
And I never could run
I tried to match your escapes
I tried to master your desires
Your fervent need for otherness.  
I tried and I tried and I gave 
Everything I had
And everything I didn't. 
And now you want to retreat 
Like an ebbing tide
Gently and without consequence. 
Devoid of attachment and feeling
In denial of
Meaning and fate 
In abhorrence of love 
And rejection of me. 
A simple complication 
Of everything that was nothing 
Sucking the breath from me
Leaving my lungs 
And my hands 
Empty of all they once touched 
The sharp angle of your jaw
Just beneath your ear
The soft patches of fur
On your chest
And that one spot on your back
And the mighty arc 
of your filed down fingernails 
On places so tender they 
Haven't even skin to cover them. 
And the answer probably is
What it probably always was
Not when you are brave enough to begin
But when I am brave enough to end
Loving and needing and suffering 
And touching lips to flesh and teeth to bone
And bruises on skin and in hearts. 


I don't know how to write this without some huge preface. I'm afraid of letting it speak for itself.  I'm afraid of giving it a voice. But it exists.

As far as I knew
I was born the only daughter 
I grew up slow and stubborn 
With the arrogance of optimism 
Three decades of sunshine at my back
Before I met my sister
And like sisters sometimes are
she is not my friend
But she is of my blood
Born of the same flesh
Me and my sister Death
Sometimes she stays at my house 
And silently watches my child sleep
And I dread the day he walks 
with my sister
And not me
She does not thieve my lipstick
Or my favorite sweater
But pries at my heart until her fingernails
Peel back 
And leave their rotten blackened roots
Embedded in the muscle of my heart
And I've been known to curse my mother
For this sister I didn't know I had
But like all sisters are
We are bound together
Even when she steals my friends
Even when she makes choices for me
I could never make myself
And I'll never love my sister
But still we are
bound together
Pulled from the same mother
And I try my best not to show her
What I want the most
Because my vengeful sister
Will take it at all costs 
And if he goes, 
I must go with him 
Too small to walk alone. 
He doesn't know my sister
But sometimes 
she looks just like me
And he's made of trust 
and big brown eyes
And all the arrogance of optimism