Dating Haiku
A plenty of fish
A simple date was the plan
or plenty of fakes
“Yucca Filamentosa”
Is not what I grew up
calling these bunches
of grand green daggers
The towering central spike
and creamy white flowers
defying the rains
and the heat of June.
Masses guarding old farmyards,
some for houses long gone.
Here, the only sign
of a quiet grave.
Bravely green in all seasons,
Winter barely browns it.
The thicket of swords
shades a crumbing lamb.
Stop beneath these nodding blooms
send a wish, remember.
You will pass from here,
“Adams Blade” remains.
Victim. The sour taste. I try to sleep the feeling off
on the floor I have not cleaned in a year. The grime
peppers my hair as the dark sinks but does not stain.
I wish it could ink me out. An erasure, the remainder
of my life will be lived around this gaping wound.
I could fall over the edge of it, dive into the avulsion,
swim laps in the pit of blood. There’s no healing for this.
These things inside the box
only images.
The parts of my identity
I choose to share:
The bell that belonged to my great grandmother
who used it to call students in after lunch.
A photo of one of my tattoos;
a memorial to dead relatives.
My brother and I at a Hu concert.
My father and I dressed in Steampunk.
Me in front of Weta Workshop
during my dream vacation.
These are me:
Teacher
Sister
Daughter
Niece
Traveler
Geek
There are more versions of me,
but I’ll keep those close
for today.
sometimes we might worry –
a world on the brink and all,
guess it’s those times when
you think the worst, that
a series of close encounters
of the young kind tends to
change your mind, convince
you we’ll be just fine
after all
how is it
that I come to worry
over an old man
who takes
23 thousand dollars
a year from me
so I can pretend his house
is mine
until
he sells out from under me
it’s a kick in the teeth
so hard that the wind
escapes the lungs
and the hills get so big
you don’t feel like
ever crawling out
Teach all day, then build all night
Hey, man
The poem I worked so hard on
Got erased
And replaced with a
Blank space
So now I’m working twice as hard
To make sure that it’s not the case
So these next few lines I dedicate
To all of the institutions and ideals I plan to desecrate
Because all of these things that hold us back
I plan to designate to detonate
No, the revolution will not be televised
At any cost
We ask that you preview the news with the TV off
And be reminded that the first few lines of this poem
Got erased
Don’t let it happen to you
And all of the things you believe to be
True
me dijo english was
a lever the rock citizenship
for her mother
gravity choking on
respect unreciprocated
