In Piecesrum-lust lips make gentle friends,In Pieces2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
words slurred in hands blurred,
burning in between the lines to find
drunken concoction of wilted laughs
and heavy sighs, scented sultry
you are that
rasping in my throat when my voice
deteriorates and I am left breathless
and hopeless and raw, my
muscles ache in memory of the
motions to forget-
we do not let go.
and cold beds call, stability,
metal frames and sunken heads –
rest now, rest with
a prayer on your lips you don't
care to share, a dream in
your mind you'll never get back;
rest and the earth will lend you peace
you will stop. the rivers will clean
your bones; the sand will smooth
your tongue; you will stop, brain blank,
as smooth ivory promises persist.
(interpretations mean less than nothing)
you will stop and rest,
flyover state, flyover heartthere's almost nothingflyover state, flyover heart9 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
left of august, or me -
just fat, humid yawns that
cling to the asphalt and
vinyl sidings of houses
prettier than any autumn day.
chlorined kids rise from the
tanned wake of public pools,
clothed in school uniforms,
counting the new freckles
they've earned like war badges.
the nights i can lay in my
underwear beneath spider web
blankets while my wheezy fan
oscillates and whispers dusty
stories are numbered.
but i'll hold the moon
as it crests over summer's
dying vigil, my arms high
around it's wondrous girth.
i'll ride the heat into the
ashes of three months spent
dreaming in fevered euphoria.
i'll lead the impassioned
thousands down margins tucked
into a waning, wailing cry.
and i won't rest, even after
august is buried between blue
lined composition pages in a
coffin of lead - a memory with no
scent becoming one without a heartbeat.
pillow talkthere are thousandspillow talk3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
of tongues i could
memorize; new words
for love tucked between
teeth often biting
my chapsticked lips
could learn to bow to
grammar laws in
i could master writing
symphonies in syntax,
spend hours penning
volumes in languages
of longing and love,
but i'll never find a
phrase that fits you
the way your body fit
to mine, back bent.
i'll never find a name
for how our lips tucked
together, for my hands
in your hair, for the
rapture in your eyes.
renovationsmy mind looks at my bodyrenovations6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and says, "i don't like what
you've done with the place."
boys will be boysi was thirteen when my healthboys will be boys5 months ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
teacher shrugged and said: "it
happens" in regards to rape.
he was a gym coach with a coffee
mug that read "world's best dad."
they gave me the one-in-three
statistic on a business card
during the half hour we talked about
sexual assault in class.
that number has become a top-heavy
fraction, though not top-heavy
the way boys like to hear of.
and i have learned that absolutely
no man will bend at the knees,
fold the way i have been told
to fold - for i have a flower
between my legs, and he has a snake.
i was taught to be lusted after
for my innocence, only to be tattooed
as guilty by a trial of my peers
in my high school lunch room.
my heart howls at the moon of knowing
i've had my phone number removed from
the contacts of those who loved me
before they dared to remove my rapist's.
the world may forever know me as impure
without looking at the hands of the boy
who touched me, without realizing that
they have dirt caked on their glasses.
and my war cries can
even a white middle class whore can be savedi wore a g-string to church today.even a white middle class whore can be saved2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the pastor preached of suicide,
stories of loss pouring from parted lips,
the congregation wide eyed and fearful -
"what if that had been my child?"
i am just another statistic.
but there is nothing like a preacher's smile,
wide and beaming like a full, pregnant moon.
he knows nothing of what's under my dress -
the underwear, the cuts spelling out my abuser's name twice.
he smiles because i am not a statistic.
and as i stand among overfed jesus lovers
with fat fingers reaching for their god,
my lesions cry out to the masses,
whispering my abuser's name over and over.
i wore a g-string to church today,
not because i am unholy,
not because i don't believe,
but because i was out of clean underwear.
Directions to the end of the worldTake the first path you find.Directions to the end of the world7 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Go straight. Keep going.
Past the grocery store; past
the gas station. Leave the post
office behind. Ignore all rest stops,
ice cream shops, and stoplights.
Toss the map – you don’t need
it anymore. The city is dust
behind you; cross the state border;
leave the country. Swim across
the ocean, walk over tundra,
then ice. Keep going.
If you fall off the edge, you’ve gone too far.
the forest breathes for youInhalethe forest breathes for you2 years ago in Four Line Poems More Like This
The Sum of InfinityI don't know if I'll ever tell my children about you.The Sum of Infinity5 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
(I don't know if I'll even have descendants.)
A family was never on my to-do list,
until you came along.
You made me wonder if I wanted kids, just so I could say to them
"You know, the day your dad and I met…"
because I thought we could last forever,
and I'm still not sure if we have.
Our friendship endures, even as I fall asleep
picturing her arms around you,
and I wonder if you'll ever come back to me
but spend every day noticing the reasons I'm glad you left
and hoping you'll return.
Never intending to fall in love,
we were an item
before you knew my name.
She reclaimed you,
you still belong to me
by virtue of the ampersand connecting our names
in the mind of every person
who watched us walk,
tall & short,
monochrome & kaleidoscope,
yin & yang,
through the winding, leaf-littered pathways
that are our life.
june fifteenthtoday isjune fifteenth11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
and your fingers between mine,
warm and damp in the heat.
my legs stick to
plastic lawn chairs,
my body sticks to yours
like bubblegum-fresh paste,
melting into you
and liking what it becomes.
black asphalt boy,
you are sizzling leather
and suffocating air
in an overheated car.
we walk across the shore
and the soles of my feet
yearn for the cool damp sand
struggling for breath
between the waves.
"I don't want to
forget this," I say,
and you smile and
close your eyes
like the sun setting,
slowly, streaking down
the sky of your face.
the sun is so far but
you're right here
and I think I might
be in love with you.
I'll move on to autumn
but you'll still be
in summer, forever,
living and living
until the day you die.