In a post office

In the leafless
lifeless
orchard
the few apples
that never fell
hang from trees
like men
lynched
in another time
and the days
turning colder
in the poetic
sense only

Part 1: The Breakup Message

I really adore you, but I’m not in love with you. I’ve genuinely enjoyed getting to know you and will always cherish the experiences we’ve shared. You’re a wonderful person, but I simply don’t see myself spending the rest of my life with you. I won’t pick you apart—that would be cruel, and you don’t deserve it. Please don’t change anything about yourself; your qualities that aren’t compatible with a long-term relationship with me might be exactly what someone else finds attractive. I’m flattered you’d want to keep working on things, but I’ve already moved on, and a clean break would be best for us. I don’t mean to seem cold, but I’m assuming you’ll need some space. If, however, you do need to talk more about the situation, I’m here for you.

Part 2: The Reaction

She was confused, upset, and immediately asked for more explanation. We had made more plans for the summer, and she stated everything had seemed fine, leaving her feeling completely blindsided.

Part 3: Reflection on Effort 

I believe that’s simply what it looks like when someone gives 100 percent effort. You make plans, take risks, and truly enjoy the time spent together. I have no regrets; not every story ends in ‘happily ever after,’ and that’s truly okay. If I had never tried, we never would have known what could have been.

I take the flowers out of the makeshift vase 
the Appalachian in me will always have a mason jar fit for any ocasion 
this one now sits wide mouthed and empty 
what’s left of the bouquet is wilted and dead in my hands
I can’t remember what they were for 
my birthday, maybe a plea of forgiveness, a I loving reminder
Now forgotten and shriveled like the petals that crunch and fall away with each movement 
a squeeze, a sway, a quick toss
there they lay 
back to the earth they were plucked from 
Humans making amends by destruction 
Some say it’s a beautiful gesture 
I think it’s a hideous reminder 

The worst part

of taking off the nail polish

after a night out

or a weekend

or a vacation as myself

is not knowing

when I’ll get to be her again.

The thing I want more than

pierced ears

or dyed red hair

or maybe even breasts

is to have beautiful

polish on my fingernails

24/7.

A mani-pedi was

one of my first moments

of deep gender euphoria.

And, like an addict,

I’ve been chasing that high ever since.

For me, it never diminishes

until I have to get out

the acetone and cotton

and hide her beauty

again

until some unknown time.

The train gathers salt black, its passengers weary, delicate truths slip.

If I could travel back in time 
to the moment that I remember 
seeing you in the hallway in sixth grade 
maybe I could have just saved us both 
a lot of heartbreak and wasted time 

We could have just become best friends 
way back then, been each other’s shelter 
from the rain, place to call home– 
when we didn’t have one, a soft place to land.

I would could have been with you sooner 
so I could have loved you longer. 

The only difference between many crystals
and stones made of similar elements
seems to be that crystals contain
fractal patterns that repeat
much of what occurs inside
until that regularity
exists for all to see.
Their beauty prevails
against a world
that tries to shatter 
any strength
we dare show.
Although we need not arrange ourselves
as firm as crystals
in order to achieve
our goals,
we do need to orient ourselves
around a seed, an imperfection, or a glitch
that gives our life a purpose and anchor.
Even if there is nothing wrong
with regular rocks and stones,
the difference remains
that precious stones 
represent the core of strength
we should all have.

When I can’t find what it is I want to paint

My husband and I attend community college
together and enroll in three subjects
Sir Elton John proceeds first to be classroom
professor and teaches via Zoom
The pesky fourth grade teacher of olde
with the flaming red hair meets us next in designated
classroom with Rainforest Cafe inspiration and 
faux cave walls hugging round tables and chairs
Dim lighting whispers mystery, suspense, foreboding
Books from lost and found
not the internet
serve as texts
Third time is charm except it’s not
since we can’t find the meeting place 
It is undecided who has the loudest
personality of the two teachers 
Husband shakes his head
Laughter bubbles out of me 
It is decided who hates it the most
I open my eyes and feel instant belly quakes