Is that
for your girlfriend
Clip on
ear rings
rest
like limp dolls
I was never
allowed to
play
with
My grandmother
cried
when
a gay couple
got married on
T.V.
Tears of joy
that seem
queer
I know she won’t
live to my
wedding
Tears of joy
I’ll never see,
a piece of you
Is still welcome
So,
No
they are for me
Frogs call out
after storms
recede
leaving the air too
thick and fog wrapping
around edges
of the hills and filling
the valley, a heavy
blanket curling
across the air just
as dark encases
us blacking out the
moon and stars
leaving us here with
echoing frog calls and
my memory of your face
rising from fog seared so
strongly into my mind
I’ll never live a thick night
like this without you
beside me.
Raindrops look so big on the mushrooms
In my yard
Eyes are strained from the night before
I’ve been trying to exhaust myself lately
So my mind doesn’t run
Paint falls from the glass spaghetti jar by my easel
It’s dried
Stacks of cardboard have been building
Frames being taken apart
Prints being covered with a fresh new start
There are flower seeds on the kitchen table
That still need to be planted
And I still want a tomato plant to name “Harry Styles”
But right now
I’m going to sleep
Under my watercolor dog quilt we bought from Walmart
Right now
I’m going to force my head to stop jumping rope
And just try to conk out
I knew I was
needy
I asked for help
desperately
You drew me with
humility
I began to see myself
differently
I grew to forgive
readily
You drew me
gently
I learned to listen
calmly
I caught words off my tongue
quickly
You drew me with
joy
I gave up my way
willingly
I chose to dance
freely
You drew me
i have two voicemails
one from each of my uncles
i can’t even bring myself to listen to the second one yet
because the first one
is a full minute
about how someone mentioned being a better uncle
and he figured he could probably do more
to be a better uncle to me
and he’s not even a bad uncle
so i don’t even know what to say to that
and my other uncle
only calls me when he’s had too much to drink
and he’s just calling because he hasn’t seen me in months
(which isn’t true)
and to remind me that i can call him too, do i know that?
so i haven’t been able to listen to that one yet
and i wonder how many days
or weeks
(forever?)
can go by before they call me again
and i have to decide to make small talk
or tell them things about my life
that they probably don’t want to hear
when you’re a kid they don’t tell you
that when you become an adult
your family will either see you as a kid forever
or call you to remind you
that you’re an adult now and relationships are a two-way street
so call me back, okay?
Shall I write another poem?
That isn’t so long
With spoonfuls of tulips
and cardinal song
Of gilded teacups
of golden rose
nestled by wildflower
honey and clover
with vivid dreams playing
that I should live over
asexual, plural,
for short, it’s a puzzle
that all lost girls
drunken, in the rain
can moan and mumble
and demotively muzzle
Give me boons
and mitigations
kittens playing with balls
whilst here, by this bnb
I bate breath for your fall
Dear girl, please don’t drive
it’s fine, she can’t find her car
and I’m pretty sure, atm,
she’s on 2 or 3 calls
But her name is Elle
and she seems like 15,
which might be patronizing
from an old woman like me.
As I write this you’re dancing in the living room with a friend, and I didn’t know it was possible for two small people to make so much sound.
This morning I woke up to the aftermath of your late night independent brownie baking.
Earlier this week I found a secret mountain of dirty clothes in the back of your closet.
But this afternoon, when your therapist called me into her office to share her notes from session,
I forgot every single frustration.
I couldn’t picture your infamous eyerolls, or recall the sound of your slamming bedroom door.
When she described what happened long before I was lucky enough to know you,
I felt your hugs that always catch me off guard, and never last long enough.
I remembered every clever joke you’ve ever told, and wanted to gather every gift you’ve ever made me.
And I saw red as I pictured the person who had no regard for the future he was trying to ruin,
Little did he know that you hold resilience in every curl on your head.
In this moment, all I know how to do is promise is to keep you safe,
And I’d really appreciate it if you could turn the music down…
when it rains down all i want to do is sleep.
when living with loud children there is no sleep.
as moon rises, sun sets.
reading is all i want to do. when the baby rips the pages the illusion of peace gone.
work day to night. at home no safe haven to run to.
what do i do when silence comes and time finally settles and i can no longer find peace in it.
my favorite roses bushes
belong to the man on Jefferson
why they’re my favorites, I’m not so sure
reds and pinks, clinging to the fence
they are free, wild in a tame sort of way, reaching for the street
he waves at me from his porch
as I pass by, walking
I wave back and I look across the street
toward the other porch sitters
I wave at them too and I want to ask them all
question upon question
but I most likely never will
our relationship consists of only hellos
The Sudden Charm of Wren
True magic is not an art requiring
Arcane rites, or a sacrifice of doves.
Just the sudden charm of wren, admiring
Herself in the glass; generous foxglove
Offering her speckled blooms to the bees.
The young buck startling up from the dry creek,
His feet clattering on the stones, the trees’
Deep shade covering his retreat; grosbeak
Who, after all, is only passing through,
Fluting his love song from a walnut limb.
True magic is in joy each day renewed,
And harmony the real enchanter’s hymn.
Wonder is the ever-renewing spell.
Those who keep it will always weather well.
