Sponge cake
with pre-portioned ingredients
as a part of the
everyday grocery list.
Vanilla icing can
hidden among
old cat food
and forgotten fridge pasta.
But,
as secondhand candles
began to discolor
artificial white,
tears were shed
across the room.
Although,
nothing in this picture
is “homemade”.
Circle measures nine
quarter candles colour night
scaled wings summoned forth
Natural plagues cast
extinguishing mans malice
earths retribution
It’ll happen when you least expect
used to be a somewhat comforting piece of hope
until a few months ago
when she unexpectedly found feelings for another guy.
You should pray about it more
because if there’s any answer in the world
that I can count on receiving,
it’s a dialtone from the sky.
Sometimes, all you can do is just let go.
Please, explain to me
how I can painlessly let go
of the knife put in my back.
You’ll find someone someday
but someday could be years from now
which doesn’t help at all
with the loneliness of today.
I’ll say a prayer for you.
Thanks, but if God doesn’t answer my prayers,
what hope can I place
in prayers made about me?
You didn’t need her anyway.
Um…
yes.
I did.
God is just waiting to shower you with grace!
Well what is He waiting for,
a blood sacrifice?
I still got that knife.
One like equals one prayer.
Hey look at this!
Our capacity for laziness turned prayer into a button!
How convenient!
Raise awareness!
Disease, mental health, suicide, good to be aware,
but I have yet to see a problem fixed
simply by admitting a thing exists.
I rushed home and hid
one ice-cream, ate the other.
I didn’t tell my husband.
He has his own stash.
Besides, he’s allergic
to lavender.
The world doesn’t know what
to call you, and neither do I.
Doll Baby. Little Fighter. Princess. Miracle.
I was always taught to support the neck,
but here you are, holding your own chin up
to swivel those enormous blue eyes.
Right now, you are the instrument
of your own need. You bring to each room
infant music. You bring to this world
another song of aspiration.
I remembered while cleaning
on a metal wet hot day
we wanted hardwood flooring in
the next home that would be better
than that low-end rotting hell
with the cheapest rent and
a six hundred electric bill surprise
I wanted to tell you
that you were right on that
hardwood floors were easier
to maintain that thin carpet
over rotten wood
but we don’t talk because I left
I just kept sweeping
wondering how much more
the rain was going to fall
because I wasn’t ready
for sunshine
a collision of chords and she’s standing upon a fallen empire, night cascading around her. she watches as strangers kiss among the rubble, catching breaths between the glow of phone screens.
call off the search for your soul
or put it on hold again
volume up, and the ash turns into snowflakes. the shattered disco lights turn into dim lit stars fighting for an inch of sky. sticky romanticism, flooding her senses.
come on, come on, come on
cue the chorus, now she’s dancing somewhere only she knows. at the base of her foot, a bottleneck crown, beaded with bad decisions, broken hearts.
come on, come on, come on
she pulls it on, taking the long way home.
heading long into cold space to
who you thought i wanted you to be
Hows it working for you?
The broken bits glued
Tight
Adhesed by dreams I want you to want to have.
–you deserve so much more than your heart gives permission to ask–
I want to tell you that I have nothing to say that couldn’t be said better by a countless stream– – _ . . .
Of motivational posters
Of Clearanced,
Neon-dyed gerbera bouquets with emoji
Wrappers
And Fainting goat videos
And Dove bar foils, flattened like prayers and tossed later,
as trash.
What I am saying is
I am the basic bitch of fortune cookie life advice
What I am saying is
I am a hug wrapped
around your jagged pieces with my own shards strapped
tight to my heart with fraying (Nascar approved)
duct tape.
What I am saying is
I am trying so hard to hold you together
And if I fail, remember
Remember?
We laughed so hard sometimes that the universe forgot itself and cracked a smile.
june is all about dogs
yours, and my cousin’s
and the ones we walk for a few worn dollars
the one that runs heavy and carries daisies back in his mouth
the tongue that wets and the sun that dries
my hands
the dog that wakes us in the morning, only for you to go back to sleep
all of us lying in the same sun, the hot bath poured in
your small window, over our legs which are gold
from 6:30 to 7:00
the dog and I wait for you to wake up and for the day
to get along
to clean the dirt tracked in from the front door in shapes
of paw prints and footprints before our parents get home
from the holiday weekend
weekday frisbee, spit and sweat
waiting turns to take showers in the one-bathroom house
we’ve lived in our whole lives
me and Sammy sitting on the back porch
while my uncle mows the lawn
and we wait for the fresh smell
the dogs and me,
we are always waiting.
