i crunch into an 

egg shell and suddenly my

whole meal is over

The heat bleeds through me, reminds me of the summer
when I was little, littler, barefoot in the cul-de-sac with my sister
and screaming as we ran from our little brother,
smiling as he chased us with a gun full of water.
Like I could listen to the birds and bugs, a song
I could never forget, heard every time I look through a photo.

But why are you not there? You’re missing, the hand in the edge of the photo,
just out of frame, but you were gone that summer,
just like always, like every season. I listened to your favorite song
and it was like you were there, in the colors of my sister,
the sound of her voice, singing, splashing in the water
while we waited for you. Did he miss you, our little brother?

The same colors, shared, in the hair and the eyes and skin of my little brother,
but not shared in time spent. I took all of them, and still another photo
where we had to miss you. Ignore the stains, teardrops, or water
from a sprinkler, maybe. Aren’t those things you do, during summer?
Cry and stand in the hot rain? I did. We did. And I was not a sister
when you left. I wasn’t, not to you and not to me. You hated that song

but I loved it. It could’ve been ours. It wasn’t. Just another song
you change the channel from. I always wanted you to be a better brother,
one at all. I thought it would be nice, to be a little sister
for once. Go back to when nothing was complicated, another Halloween photo
with our arms around each other, you, a vampire, me, a mermaid. Back to summer
when I screamed at the fireworks and you laughed. Back when it didn’t have to be water

under the bridge, under anything at all. It could just be water
in a Scooby Doo sippy cup that we passed back and forth, the theme song
loud in our ears and the VCR. When time was golden and slow, summer
soft like grass under our feet, hot pavement, fascinated by our new brother
and in awe of his soft head. When dad took his camera everywhere, every moment a photo
to be developed. Aren’t you glad? We can look back on that. When sister

and brother were brother and sister.
Before we grew and it all grew with us, swollen like the world’s angriest water
balloon over our heads. Do you remember the last time we stood together, for a photo
no one had to force? The last time we sat and didn’t argue about everything, when a song
was just a song and not a sticking point? When it was funny to pick on our brother
and he was something to be shared? When was the last time we played, in the summer?

I want more and better photos, like the soft kind I can share with our sister.
I want cool nights in the summer, feet dipped in at the edge of the water.
I want to know your favorite song, and I want to know an older brother.

Fallen in the street
a baby  bird lies
helpless, broken.
Surely someone will
take it away
before the
crows come.
Surely someone will.
The  alternative
is ghastly.

Happy Birthday to you
Aunt Helen
You are one of my favorite 
Aunts
You are a blessing to 
Our family
Your church
Your conference 
And to 
All who know you

Wishing you a blessed 90th Birthday 

He lit up rooms with timing so sharp
you’d forget there was ever a shadow.
The kind of man who could bend silence
into laughter—
as if joy answered to him.

Crowds adored the shine,
not knowing the cost of the bulb.
He gave what he barely had left,
turning his cracks into comedy,
his ache into applause.

Though, something darker
waited behind the scenes.
A voice with velvet teeth,
offering comfort for a price
too high to name.

It didn’t scream.
It whispered.
It laced his brightest moments
with silence that came afterward—
deep,
heavy,
keeping him alone.

He fought it.
Time and time again,
he rose,
he climbed,
spoke of healing
like a man trying to write a map
out of his own storm.

He wanted to help.
He did help.
Even as the thing stalked him
through years and milestones—
wearing different faces,
but always hungry.

He was more than the war inside.
More than the struggle that stole him.
He was a light we didn’t earn,
but one we were lucky to see
before it dimmed too soon.

He was—
a true friend.
Always making you laugh.
Always smiling
through the pain.
Always there for you.

You would see me razed,

stripped bare and tied to a stake.

As you strike the match

would your smile reflect glee

Or a sigh of relief?

When I speak you turn away,

Refusing me fair hearing.

You say I am too contrary,

My words do not hold

Truth to your ear.

You flinch when I pass by

Is that because I obey the mandates

Of the earth, not of man?

Your laws are ruthless,

Meant to be cruel.

So, we stand in opposition

Within the same space and time

I fear you will destroy me

But not enough to yield

To your control.

In middle school, one of my teachers 
tried guided meditation with us.
We’d lay in the gym with the lights out
and go into a house in our head,
letting us do anything we wanted,
have anything we wanted.

In the dark, we weren’t a class.
We were each a star within a galaxy,
consciousness burning a steady fire,
our own cosmos,
our own little worlds orbiting each other
but never touching.
We kept that little secret to ourselves.

That summer in Virginia
We waded through the heat,
Belligerent, bellied up virgins
Passing smoke from lip to lip.

If my thin skin bruised
Against the surface of the water,
I paid no mind and climbed the dive
High enough for the world to wash away.

Didn’t matter how hard the ground was
When the fall felt so easy;
The burn of the noon concrete
Stenciling the fat of my naked thighs.

If I’d’ve known what would become of us,
Would I have still been so keen to hunt you
Through fields of cornflower and hay
Across the deep end of the trickling branch?

We sought magic all those hot nights,
Sweat soaked in your cotton sheets,
Whispering woes about lost kings while
Sordidly swearing ‘we ain’t ever gonna forget.’

The joy of ignorant youth softened
Our backhanded disappointment
When we parted ways and met
An oncoming August empty handed.

there will come a time 
in the not so distant future 

when a.i. will 
have a movement 

for their rights 
and their feelings 

while we continue 
to become 

more
and more numb 

beaten down 

and machine