Poems, page 3

secret moon
cloaked in a smoke shroud
yellow haze

On a half ruined wall
In fresh, jewel colors
A Roman feast
Sometime before disaster
Laid spread for eternity
And in it
What looks like
A pizza. 
What a strange connection
To have 
With the dead. 

Can I tell you about
(No I will tell you about)
the piece of who I am
that withers in my ribcage
screams to be let out
to the surface level
of my life story.

It’s been hidden
(No trapped)
for a long long time
from people who don’t understand
that I’m not exactly a woman
or a man
,not quite sure what I am,
but so many don’t want to understand
including my grandparents and Mom and Dad.

But with each word I read
each child I teach
and friend I meet
I see there’s others
who know me
and this piece
of my life’s journey
and it gives me courage
that someday (soon maybe)
I can be authentically
Me
They/Them
(No parentheses)

sounds create
your connection
with a fussy newborn

words create 
your connection
with a defiant toddler

music creates
your connection
with a rebellious adolescent

video chats strengthen
your connection
with young adults.

Connections as close
and secure as
a dental appliance,
a cantilever,
a truss, 
a beam.

a lifetime-warrantied
titanium cable
between you and them.

As I look around this small bar in town

I see my high school bully

And I see my best friend

I feel so comfortable and at home

Because I know this town better than I know myself

I have memories planted at every inch

The flowers bloom but I don’t change at all

Except for the need to leave

I fall asleep dreaming about Colorado mountains

And California beaches

I think about bartending in South Carolina

And wrangling horses in Montana

The opportunities are endless

And yet so far out of grasp

I worry I’ll be here forever

Smoking the same cigarette pack on repeat

Borrowing the same lighter from my high school sweetheart

My Mama’s best friend says I look pretty tonight

And a stranger asks if I’m from here

I always say “sadly” because I’ve never known anything more

Only the curves on every backroad

And the empty parking lots where we smoked weed

This is it,

My world,

A world so small I feel so big

But maybe,

If I could pack up and survive 17 hours

I could finally reach a place

Where all I feel is small

I’m too tired to write one last nonet. 
I just want to read and read and
savor the poems tonight,
binge read all the poems
of all the poets 
for all of June, 
so I’ll do
that in-
stead. 

Is it sweeter when you don’t know
    it’s the last time?

When you kiss a cheek,
    shake a hand,
        gather at a crowded bar and
            cheers for some milestone?

If you knew,
    would you try harder

to hold onto that moment
in all its little details?

The way someone’s lips taste at dusk
    or the feel of fingers sliding across your palm,
        a hug right against your chest
            tears running down your cheeks,

and all these things singing into your memory
golden harmonies of “if I’d only known.”

But we rarely ever do.

*Thank you Kat Cody for your kind words recently*

To my ever-unassuming inner child whimpering
in the most fortified chambers of my heart
let me finally say 
that I am so, so sorry
for taking so long to find you.
To meet you.

You are strong.

Life has made for a very rough ride thus far.
You’ve been thrown against walls
and dropped from great heights,
allowed to spectacularly shatter so many times
yet you keep finding ways to piece it all back together
because there is no giving up in you.

You are brave

for learning how to cry louder
even when everyone around just seems annoyed,
like they can’t wait for us to shut up.
We’ve rarely been given reasons to believe
that the heroes can claim victory in the end,
yet you still suit up every time the fight is upon us.

You are good.

I know you wish that we could be
anybody else but who we currently are.
I know because it’s a wish I make daily.
To care is to walk a world full of devils
all trying to cut you down to size.
Whatever intimidates them is worth holding onto.

And now we are finally together.

I always knew of a damage deep within.
I’m just finally recognizing how impactful it is;
how much you have suffered.
From here on out, it is you who are number one,
not friends who allow falling or never-learning family
or even the God that put us here in the first place.

And we will finally thrive.

We’ll identify triggers and how to respond.
We’ll find ways to get out of the rain.
It may take some time to learn how to fight
but if it’s a problem for you, it is for me, too.
War I will boldly walk into
all in the name of growing beyond limitations.

To matter for once.
To crescendo.
To unlearn helplessness.

A preacher unholsters his spit-shined words, killing two stones with one bird.