Month: February 2022

And while your smile
Still reminds me that I am
Capable of inflicting pain
At such a distance

It comes together into a
Tear tracing down my cheek
Into our hearts beating (sos)
And my fist clutching the hem of your shirt

What more could I have crooned to you?
Your cool hand to my cheek
The flutter of our white curtains
A shared song under our breath
What else?

And while there is no boundary between
How you love and how you are loved
Is there no way to become myself again?

Once you are so dear in another’s heart,
Is there no escape?
I have found no such thing as escape.

(And since what) love you have
Shown (came fro

We went out again–
‘Do you like American
Music?’ We love it.

We don’t have much to
Say to each other tonight.
We don’t need the words.

I hear you still. A
Flash of glittery something,
Heels stabbing at toes.

Laugh at ourselves
Fall to the ground, hands clutching
lifeblood Irish Cream.

‘Say something, say some
Thing, anything!’ We need to
Hear it, scream it out.

We twist and shout, and
We scream along with our hearts
Let the noise grow too.

‘Boys don’t cry.’ Let me.
I know I feel the same things
As the rest of us

Ripples of movement
Hit walls and bounce back, braving
the throng twice. We sing.

‘Take a piece of my
Heart!’ Haven’t we done enough?
Take another piece.

How much do you need
From me? I know I have no
Choice in the matter.

“I’m sorry but I’m
Just thinking of the right words
To say…” Promise me

That you will tell me
The answer to our questions.
As long as you know.

Release us both now
With your voice. We know
How to sing along.

Let the frustration
Billow from your moving form
And let it all go.

What could we know? We
Are the children of the young
In an unheard time.

Letting the night rise
Far above our eager heads
Forget us again.

They asked to see the garden

All they will find are rotten tomatoes
She never got to pick
All they will find are stripped rosemary bushes
Dead for the winter
Trying to copy their mother.
They might find a trowel, a spade

They might find her little glove
Just one, laying on the earth
I couldn’t know, I can’t bring myself to look

They could find her for all I know

What golden ichor of the gods presents
Itself as cheap as paper bills in hand?
What ambrosia overwhelms the sense
And dulls all mortal pain with no demand?
His drink, the greatest friend a man could find
No elusion like the scurrying game
Memories lost as though they had a mind
Hateful earthly arms set out to maim
What other choice does any man possess
Another addiction beneath his belt
The woes of life the king does not address
Into their toxic drink the men will melt
Until their lives return they will forget.
All they will be is reflected silhouettes.

they found a way to guard the house

three big angry
dogs
foam resting on their curled
black lips

coarse fur
untouchable;
anyone who dared come close
gone
within the second

perhaps i exaggerate but i
could not fathom safety after all

Remember when Christmas came,
We would all wake up early
and run downstairs to claim
our presents, the smell of the tree earthly.

Remember how we used to play all day,
inside and outside
Mom would yell to come clean up, but we wanted to stay
So we’d run in and toss everything out of sight.

Remember when we were closer,
When we laughed more and fought less
When time moved slower
and there was no stress.

Now that’s in the past,
for now I know nothing can last.

The little student handbooks
administration grasps
so desperately
outlines explicitly
1. No shoulders
2. No bra strap
3. No midriff
4. No thigh
5. No girl

The girl is distracting.
The girl is immodest.
The girl is ungodly.

Where is the rule
stating that little boys mustn’t gawk
at the cheerleader whose uniform
shows thigh and calf?

Where is the rule
that little boys mustn’t harass
our girls like 60-year-old men
in their direct messages?

Where is it?

It floats and floats,
Up, up into the sky
It’s not a plane
Nor a bird
But instead a UFO.
Nothing more
Nothing less
But always does it progress
We never know what to find
What to ask
What to see
So this little thing
Is very questioning
You can spot it in many different ways
In a triangle
Or in a play
We’ve all heard stories
But is it really true?
Should we continue?
Or face certain doom?

You blink slowly,
steadily
at me.
“cat eyes”
my parents call them,
sparkling vibrant
yellow,
catching the
sunlight that spills
through
the window
as your pupils dilate.
Your fur trembles
under my gentle
touch
and your curled up
body
is an ocean,
sending
rolling waves
of brown
and gray
polished silk
from striped
head
to
curving
tail.

Her silence was as red as the blood on her hands,
& her words were miles from day and night
Her eyes held pieces of the sky,
but we never saw her in the dark.

She told us to reach for the stars
when we couldn’t see them,
as if we’d pry the eyes from her head
when they were suffocating black
with only the star shaped holes in the sky
To let us breathe.

She fed us white lies
that tasted like syrup
Until we tried to speak,
and then the candied words
Turned bitter in our throats

Gave us promises of home,
So she could paint herself gray
and make us believe she was golden
While she played her game
Of locked doors
and locked mouths.

She didn’t get that we
Could never reach the stars
without getting burned,
Could never find home
because home was never real for us,
& could never stop running
because we were always going to be chased.

We
were
never
going
to
make
it.