Posts for 2020 (page 153)

I hold Char’s spine together
waiting on a 32 oz water bottle
and a bag of goldfish, caved into
the first bathroom stall when she starts
speaking Spanish, she’s so sweet when she’s
like this.
Glitter on her eyelids makes its way to her collarbone
and to her wrist, she misses most of it
with the makeup wipes. Brushing her teeth
is a two-person job.
I read her the Spanish poems
assigned for class tomorrow
and she finally tells me
where the scar on her back
came from, she’s good at talking
when she’s like this.

In the stillness of morning
as I relax on my back porch
a ruby-throated hummingbird
discovers three silk flowers
nestled in a bottle
she rushes from one to the other
like a pinball darting 
from bumper to bumper
every effort futile
reminding me of my own
lack of good judgment
in times past
expending so much energy
on things of little significance

Don’t tear at my flesh
and demand that I like it
because
I don’t know how sharp your teeth are.

I’ve spent years bloodletting,

I want to talk with you
like an ocean tide
rising and swelling
crashing and receding
laughter and whispers
uncontained
lapping and grabbing
at edges
water sinking into sand,
instead of overenunciating
from across the street
behind a mask
into a screen,
This loud monotone
like a spoon
clanging a pan

Anxiety-rendered fingers
picked raw,
massaging shreds of cabbage
until they give way,
turning limp and swampy.
Sea salt, spices,
acrid sliced garlic and onion
bite at my flesh,
but I continue
until my hands are tingling
and no longer feel like my own.
Grabbing fistfuls,
I tamp it in scalding jars,
smashing with hands balled tight.
This is the only way I can feed you my pain
and turn it into something nourishing.

Never would have guessed, before you came along,
that I’m a little bit Peter Pan and a lot bit Wendy,
living a little lost, shocked as the years have flown;
how could I have known Barrie said it all?
 
Took some mornings spent dancing in the kitchen with you, 
mixing up some pecan pancakes to Haley Reinhart,
before my eyes began to focus on what is in front of me—
it’s not so different than the self I left behind, years ago: 
eighteen years old, reveling in the sunshine.
It took your hand woven with mine to finally remember
that I’m more than a mental illness or three,
so much more like the hints God whispers at dawn.

Never would have thought I’d be here almost a decade later,
still up at 3:32am writing these poems as the house sleeps.
Took me this long to dust off the brain-shelves
and remember that this is what fuels my soul’s flame.

We aren’t so different, you and I—and I can honestly say
I’ve never felt as compelled to shout about it.
You’ve got me rediscovering me, using the pages as a map.

Never could have imagined a quirky conversation
about the intricacies of our curly hair would lead to now,
but I’m not able to imagine a now without you— 

so here’s to the nevers that compile the nows. 

GROWING UP

Am I the child who sat on your lap,
While you rocked me and sang me to sleep?
The one you taught to read?
I am.
Am I the girl who sat at your desk
To write
So that my penmanship was neat?
And my math was correct.?
I am.
Now I am the woman you left behind
Full of grace and holding your hand,
I am.
You went on before me
Left me here to carry on.
I am that child, that girl, that woman.
I am.
Here.

Don’t matter if I was gettin up 
From my hundredth fall on 
My two wheeler,  strugglin to 
Keep up in math or headed 
Toward my tenth job interview,

Mama’d say, ‘Put them oars in the water an start paddlin.’  

Made no difference at all if 
I was battlin to carry a baby to
Term or tryin to find the words to
Tell a 4 year old what divorce really is,  

Mama’d say, ‘Put them oars in the water an start paddlin.’  

Today is different.   
Today my mama went over the falls.  
Left me spinnin out here in the whitewater.  

I’ve put them oars in Mama, an I’m paddlin, 
But ain’t too sure I’m gonna make it to shore.

I’ve voted in a neighbor’s garage, in churches,
a cow barn, laundry, fire station and clubhouse,

for statesmen and scoundrels, for Democrats,
and on rare occasions, a Republican.

I’ve resorted to candidate write-ins,
said YES to two-terms for governors,

taxes for libraries and schools,
and NO to the lottery, marriage as between

one man, one woman, and the proposal
to expand use of eminent domain.

Always, no matter the issue or office,
while standing in line at the polls,

I’ve felt pride, and gratitude, to be participating
with others in our democratic process.

I voted this morning, walked to the mailbox,
cast my ballot and missed that high.