north/
some colder place,
far from where I am
south/
flights toward things that grow
streak the sky
east/
dawn cracks my morning highway
west/
from this valley
tree and tree and tree
somewhere, the horizon
****
curvature
already where you are,
a zenith
They don’t want you in the conversation,
I used to tell students who found certain essays
almost impossible to read.
You can shrug shoulders and let them talk
among themselves,
or you can break their code. Make
your voice
heard!
I remember
this in comfort of my ignorance
as I navigate “signing in” for
different airlines.
It’s as if they don’t want us
to travel, I think, and like
some of my students I’m tempted
to shrug shoulders and
stay home. That”s an idea! Stay
home. But I won’t.
I just have to navigate my way
into this strange conversation.
If worse
comes to worse,
I’ll just appeal to
the “kindness of strangers.”
Or airline clerks.
Whichever comes first.
i used to wonder how they did it
when so many wounds were bleeding outside of their windows
and yet the alarm went off this morning
and i went to work
i dressed like it mattered
drove a car to a building to prove that
i was in fact in office and working
and drank a cup of coffee
while opening digital envelopes
the small talk tradition ensued
and i fake nodded and feigned listening
because that’s what you’re supposed to do
when there is no space to address the unrest
they’ll document your unprofessionalism for sharing
my coworker plops a strawberry into their overnight oats
and i am not supposed to think about
the child migrants who first plucked it for her
the meeting begins with an icebreaker and i’m supposed to pretend
that that’s the ice i care about destroying right now
i toss orange-stained tamale husks into the trash
in the breakroom and try to miss the metaphor
because i can’t find meaning in its acknowledgement
and i’m not supposed to mention it if i do
my eyelids are heavy with the weight of memory
and the strain of blue light, war coverage
but it’s twenty-two days until the rent is due again
and three hours until my boss wants to circle back
and the dull ache in my chest demands i bear witness
but the project tracker says to schedule that for later
the wounds are bleeding outside of my windows
and i still have to go to work tomorrow
i’ve started writing again
like how you wait for the last bit
of honey to pour out on a cold day
it’s sweet at the end
but dreadful to watch
—–
i’ve started writing again
like a dam broke
there is no salvation for the
town that i built
around who i was without words
the villagers were never meant to
survive anyways
She stares at pairs of stairs,
each bearing unique airs,
in colors, styles, and possibilities,
but which to take?
She tries to climb some,
but slips and tumbles down,
bruised, unsure, feeling frail,
but also stubborn and set to prevail.
A thrilling and terrifying season of life to be in.
age gathers ammunition
against my neck
no matter how
I protest
How Rude.
when I make my descent
from the steps of strangers
after delivering their pizzas
my worries alternate
between
overdue notices and weak ankles
How Unfair.
…more money
…more time
…more sleep
…more mistakes
…more fun
…more Vitamin D
…more obligations
…more do-overs
… more age freckles
…more HITS TO THE CREDIT SCORE I DIDN’T ASK FOR
WHEN I AGREED TO DO THE ADULT THANG INSTEAD OF THE
DAYDREAMS I WAS BUILT TO SHARE OVER DINNER WITH FRIENDS
AT FANCY RESTAURANTS THAT NO ONE CAN EVER REALLY AFFORD
…but no worries,
at the end of the day,
the search
for peace
unites all of us.
is a hooded sulky teenager
living in the shadowy basement
of my body
blasting bone-grinding rock
at 3 a.m. and I, puny parent
at the top of the stairs,
screaming shut it off
to the indifferent dark
Uncle, change was on the way
Just a few years after your release
The deprivation of sufficient light
Food or exercise
Was ruled inhumane
There would be no more bread-and-water diet
No more stripping inmates of their clothes
No more unheated cells
No more shackling
No more placing an inmate in handcuffs or chains
While inside his cell
No more using tear gas to disable a convict
Surely these changes would have tamped down
Your desire to escape.
The last 12 months have emerged and expanded chaotically
like smoke from a genie’s bottle
disorienting in its possibility
and slightly terrifying in its power.
I didn’t always notice it
The way your eyes adjust at night
when the motion light at your own front door clicks on
you’re blinded by the shock.
Jupiter’s mass is more than double that of the rest of the planets combined
and it moves through each day in less than ten hours.
On the other side now
I’m marveling at the expanse of its reach
Not one cobwebbed corner of my life
left undisturbed.
The astrological equivalent of an enormous charging otherworldly animal
having just ravaged my entire life
I would have imagined myself
at least shaken
if not utterly shattered.
But here I am
eyes on the sky
ready for more.
