untitled
Fingers in my hair,
his voice rumbled over me
like thunder
over a tumultuous sea.
My daily drill for the skill
Sarah once felt a small nick.
When she looked, she found a small tick.
She saw with her eye,
right there on her thigh,
the seed for the damn limerick.
She watched it swell and grow big.
It gorged on her blood like a pig.
She sucked down some air,
sat down in a chair,
and pulled out her tweezers to dig.
She shouted, “Now you’ll come out!
Of that, there is really no doubt!”
She dug and she plucked
(and the bug was soon fucked)
then she flushed it to swim with the trout.
What happened
(never happened)
Catch my d
r
i
f
t
?
Follow me?
(follow me)
As you s i f t
(silently)
through photos
(never taken)
and sentiments
(never spoken)
Remember
(to forget)
Forget
(and keep forgetting)
Remember
(what happened)
Never happened
(catch me)
But in dreams
(I’m falling)
Always f
a
l
l
i
n
g
(Follow me?)
Let freedom ring as mighty as our liberty bell.
The people sing: Give me liberty, or give me death!
Let freedom ring across highs and lows, above and below
all lands, all people, with all pursuits of happiness.
Crack, the liberty bell groans, a snap in its exterior,
an undetected defect. Let freedom ring! The people demand,
behind the bell jar with no sound, nothing.
This bell is merely symbolic, the government says,
ushering the people to ring their king instead. No kings,
the people protest, no dictators! Their diction is lost
in the noise of uncertain revolution. Let freedom ring,
our founding fathers say. Give me liberty, or give me death.
my father acts like
he wants to fix things
i try to be nocturnal,
where there are no words,
the image terrifies.
rain’s starting now.
Surrounded by knowledge,
He guides all those who walk through his doors
To the answers they seek.
He watches the young and the old
As they laugh together over comedies,
Cry over the tragedies,
Shout over the twists and cliff-hangers.
He knows each of their struggles
And adds advice when asked
But he cannot find the answer
To the one question he most wants to understand:
How to not be alone.
When someone sees pictures of me
in girl mode
for the first time,
the reaction is always the same.
“You look so happy,” they say
with delighted surprise,
as if I move through my daily life
like Eeyore.
I understand it though.
When I look and feel like my true self,
I have an undeniable glow.
I like to think
that if my family
knew my potential
for a more joyful life,
they would do whatever it takes
to help me get there.
They think I’m fine,
wearing boring boy clothes,
working a job I hate,
pretending every day.
If I try to protest,
their reaction will be,
“But you look so happy.”
