sweep dust off your shoes
and smile unpolitely
scream if necessary
your voice beckons ears
heartstrings pulling deep
paint your face with flowers
and sing curses
laugh if necessary
your spirit beckons souls
flames burning quicker
bury yourself in art
and praise creatives
weep if necessary
your nature beckons minds
darkness closing in
As the campground fills up,
the deer disappear.
The red-headed woodpeckers
seek a deeper forest
while the black and white duck
stops to visit each site
begging a small piece of bread.
When the campers leave
the deer reappear.
The red-headed woodpeckers
resume their occupation
while the black and white duck
still waddles from site to site
seeking a small piece of bread.
Blind lead blind
I don’t have a good answer
or even any good advice.
Maybe come back in a few minutes
maybe then I’ll have the right words,
ones that can change the course
of your life.
Or maybe they’ll be clichés
one’s you’ll forget
the moment they leave my mouth.
Sorry this is the way
it has to be.
Sorry I can’t do more
to keep you from breaking-
from hurting-
from having your knees give out from under you-
I’m sorry.
But come back tomorrow,
Maybe then
I’ll have thought of something
incredible enough
to change the course of your life.
maybe.
Silent, my body inhales.
diaphragm contracts,
ribs lift,
atmospheric pressure pushes-
oxygen, nitrogen, argon, ozone, sulfur dioxide, particulates, polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons-
expand my alveoli,
diffuse into my blood,
webs of tubes and hoses,
gasp, sigh, sniff
Gasp.
Silent.
One bright Easter
I hoarded my solid
chocolate pony, nibbled
its white hooves, pondering
what next, tail or mane?
I hid him behind
the chest of drawers
so brother and sisters
couldn’t find.
Weeks passed, forgot
pulled him out, mottled
chocolate chalk now,
one yellow candy eye
staring at me
like a communion host
with a pupil.
I learned at ten
that, once bitten,
there’s no
going back.
Dear things
can be saved
too long.
oars sweep blue water
dip right dip left pause to see
shadow of gull wings
In the sauna that is my backyard’s summer air,
I consider the ice clinking in my glass
and how my grandparents first met ice skating
at a city park bordered by brick apartment buildings
where in winter an oval of cloudy ice
paralleled a sky heavy with snow,
how they skated together with linked arms and mittened hands,
him crossing one skate in front of the other,
his smile lifting his dark eyebrows as they chatted,
that same easy grin appearing
whenever my grandma sang him to the dinner table–
Lehbby–
his nickname
given by people in her mostly Lithuanian building
because he was Lebanese.
They say history repeats itself,
And damn were they right
I try so hard to be happy in this crazy life
Avoid the news and drama
Pretend like everything is okay
And I’m sure that’s unhealthy
But I open my eyes and this world
Is burning both figuratively
And literally
We are surrounded by fire
Our voices extinguishers
But they only go so far
My body has more laws
Than a gun,
My life is less important
Than a fetus,
Seeing this world how it truly is,
Is sickening
Feeling unheard,
And like it’s only going to get worse
What am I to do
I want to close my eyes,
But I need sight to fight
And that is all that we can do
