Posts for 2024 (page 65)

a glass of orange
juice, no pulp delight each time
before school. thanks, bye!!!

Black wax breaks free
Amber liquid fills my cup 
Honeyed oak sunset 

Dear Creators of the delightful little squares of sugar we call Now Laters, 

Please bring back the chocolate Now Laters.  

I had a very traumatic childhood but the chocolate Now Later was always a delicious, chewy respite from the trauma.  When I had a chocolate Now Later, I could relax and let my guard down and my mind wander, for just a moment.  

My inner child would very much appreciate your consideration in this matter.  

I look forward to the return of chocolate Now Laters…in stores soon!

you know you found it 
when you are excited 
to turn everything off 
climb the stairs 
with the cats in tow 
slid into the covers 
with the television 
on low 
to feel her foot hook
around your ankle
and pull you close

“don’t save your good ideas (for later)
get everything out (now)”
they say (so i say)

i say
I don’t know where to put it (or how)
so long (brown cow)
(good night)

Your freckles
constellate
my joy

The way your green eyes 
send me that stare 
from across a crowded room
That comes from a secret place 
It encompasses your whole face
you hide behind your mustache 
that smirk that I know 
all too well reeling me in 
every single time
shifting me in my seat
leaving me always wanting more

May the flattened possum and the bloated deer
find rest in their roadside slumber, and may
the wilted coyote and the smeared rabbit
be at peace, knowing their paths will not cross
in the same forest. Of the bees, wasps, moths,
beetles, and mosquitos splattered in stained
constellations across my windshield, I beg
your forgiveness—my flight lacks the grace
of your wings, my aim possessing no clear call
to instinct. Above all, may the cat who filled
the whirling space, thin as a blink, between
my tire and the highway know the world stopped
when your weight took control of the wheel,
when I couldn’t find you in the nearby field, tears
blurring the edges of words—for every expired
wild soul—I’m sorry.

I will always be the girl who forgets to water her plants

I stare at them everyday,

Set reminders and write it down,

I always know I need to

But I always forget to

I want so badly to be able to keep them alive

Pretty and green and thriving

I’ll think it’s only been a few days

But it’s been weeks

Eventually I will and I’ll feel better

Until I forget to water my plants again

you can see love 
you can see hate 

if you look for them

you can see beauty 
you can see pain 

if you look for them

you can see them all 

if you aren’t looking