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XXXXXEven now,More Like This
part of me
(my hands)
want to
pull out
that glass
she lodged
in her neck.
Pull it out
and drop it
into pieces,
or keep it
in the back seat
of my car.
Where it can
lay a while
and stare at me.
Part of me
(my chest)
is not afraid
of demons.
It is far less
dangerous
than girls with
haphazard knives
and other
monsters.
Sad GirlI will never be your sad girl.More Like This
That little trinket you wear around your ego
to make it sparkle
like diamonds
girls wear around their necks;
like you wear your hands around their necks.
Women wear these abuses like pearl necklaces,
as if they were lost jewels excavated from behind the pearly gates;
a Christmas gift
from the man who choked sapphires out of your mothers eyes
and paid the way for her heaven headed expedition.
A gift
wrapped like knuckles beating brass colored choruses
into her copper skin, harvesting rubies;
sweet and sticking to her body after he
scrubbed away his sins from the surface.
A gift from God.
As if his hands h
The Bottom of the BoxThere is nothing to decipherMore Like This
in the cracking of leaves
on the sidewalk.
Or the way her hair draws lines
in front of her blue coronas,
in the smell of black coffee
and warm tea.
You see these people
looking up at the clouds,
looking at their reflections
bent and stretched against
the hood of a car.
In fur and luxury,
in large collections of art.
(The best of which are only
crude depictions of the magic
they are looking for.)
DryingThere is a book of matchesMore Like This
on my floor here,
somewhere behind the
shelves of paper and wires
coiled in the corners.
And it always smells a little bit
like smoke and ink in here
especially when I open the window;
put myself on display
for a street where
only strangers walk by.
I am an old, tired zoo animal
and the kids don't even tap
on my glass anymore.
Bits and pieces: For My MotherI want to tell you that you are beautifulMore Like This
But I don’t want to insult you
Because you are so much more than that
You are everything that beautiful wishes it could be
I want to tell you that I miss you
You have always been my home
The most stable structure in my life
We moved when I was seven
So you would think that
I’ve had enough time to unpack all my
Baggage
But I must have left a few boxes back home
Because that’s all I can think of lately
Whenever I fill out a form I write
“Asheville, North Carolina” for current city and state
when I really should write “living in the past”
as my current
Sta.sh
