Vision+Voice

She pondered
as she looked out onto
the wide horizon
Her heart pounded in her chest like a beating drum
As it rose to her throat

The tide pulled her back and forth
She swayed with the sea’s wind

The white dress she wore
Straggled in the wind
It flowed like the water
Of the deep
blue
waters

On her knees
she whispered
out of cold
dry
colorless
lips
Who are you?

On her back
she laid
alone

Sleep

The day he left us,

it was just another day in life,

“We’re putting him to sleep.”

they told a 6-year-old me,

I didn’t process though,

I didn’t cry

like I should’ve

I strapped on my velcro shoes and went to school,

The day didn’t feel like it

should have

the wind that danced around me was a ballerina light on its feet,

not whipping and twirling too violently as it

should have

The lights of the cafeteria were tenderly illuminating the world,

not blinding and overwhelming as they

should have

Only when my not-gone-as-should-have day

ended,

only when I was sitting around the dinner table

did I realize

I realized he wasn’t there begging for food under the table,

I realized never again would he be ,

I couldn’t grasp why he left,

I asked where he was,

they told me

“He’s gone, honey,

we put him down today.”

I finally understood what

I hadn’t before,

that he would close his eyes forever,

that I wouldn’t be there with him in his last moments,

I cried,

wet, salty tears formed floods that swept away the whole world,

I cursed myself for not knowing,

for living happily when he could live

no more.

everything was only regret and

loss,

temporarily.

I built up my world again from the ruins the tears had left behind.

I learned to dance with the wind again

to see the lights as softly glowing again,

Now I sometimes think about that

too-normal day

I see that I didn’t realize the truth

that morning I left for school instead of

staying with him.

I see that I despised myself for not knowing until

too late.

I was hard on myself,

I see that.

But I still wish for a

goodbye.

So now I say it softly to the empty room,

“Goodbye Toby”

A blank page is the gap
between real world and imagination
Think and do

A blank page is bitterness
The words aren’t coming
But the frustration is

A blank page is trapped
Imprisoned in the everlasting white
No way to escape

A blank page is
Ideas of what was
And what could have been
Inspiration kept hidden
Deep within the soul

A blank page is forever
Everyone will move on with the world
But the blank page will stay
Remnants of the past
Sparks of creativity
Hidden forever

the sun scorches our hot backs
it’s not a pleasant sort of tingle,
prickle or sensation

it’s of feeling like your skin is on fire
so unreasonably hot
like being baked in an oven
unable to get out

we trudge through the streets
shoes getting stuck in the melting,
sticky, tar of the road

there is sweat leaking
through our clothes

It cascades in salty puddles
on the parched sidewalk

when it seems like the heat
is too much to bare

that we will curl up on the grass
and drown in the searing light
of the sun

a gentle jingle erupts in the sultry air

the sound of the ice cream truck
of cool, frosty treats

of air conditioning whistling through our hair
of pure, delicious, goodness dribbling down our chins

we charge towards the familiar sound
and fumble through our pockets for coins
like our lives depend on it

the ice cream man
gives us a cheery smile
and presents us with

ice cream and popsicles in
all different colors

we lick our icy treats
greedily gulping down the arctic slush

before we know it
it’s all gone

and all that is left
is a full belly
and a sense of relief on
this
sweltering
summer
day

Poems hide
in your closet
in the pockets
of your old coats
pretending
not to matter.

Poems hide
in the valley
between
the snow-capped
mountains
tricking you
into thinking
they don’t want
to be found.

Poems hide
on your bookshelf
peaking at you
from their perch
between the pages
feining innocence
when you finally
open your eyes.

gleaming, silver, sharp,
sophisticated eaters
use their silverware

A poem should be a snapshot
A window into a single moment in time

That stops you in your tracks
And fills your mind with emotion

A poem should be something magical
While being nothing special

Complex
Yet simple

A poem should be raw and real
As if it was ripped right out of you

Flowing from your heart to the page
In meer seconds

A poem should be a blooming wildflower
Sprouting everywhere

In vivid colors
In vivid pictures

A poem should be you
All of you written on a page

Your self-portrait
Your life

Bubble gum is unique
She’s soft and chewy
A gleam of pink
Or purple
Or blue
She could be which or whatever you choose
You grab a pink container
Your hunger tells you It’s a no-brainer.
As you read the contents, a bright,
Colorful label project into your eyes
Running your finger over the rough lettering
You think of how many other eyes
How many other feet
How many other sighs
Have stood where you stand
Looked at what you’ve seen
Felt how you’ve felt
Besides you, a stranger
Who expressed little to no danger
A wonder of
“I think I’ve tried this type of gum before”
How a simple
“Oh me too”
Has arms, a harmless reach,
where I once saw it as an armless cactus
I feel warm, for I was not judged

You walk up to the counter
As a sweet old man smiles
A crinkle in his eye
A flash of his teeth
Aged, he’s known this world for longer than you
You admire him
I wonder how much of this bubblegum he’s had
In his dire years
In the candy shop on 2nd street
Bubblegum is unique
How it can bring you back
To a life, you can see
which may not even be yours
The bubblegum guarantees.

I am forever in debt
to that bubblegum
for I met the love of my life
in that little candy store
on 2nd Street.

Outside it can be cold
And the world is in a hold
through the cold evening sky
Sunlight is a yellow dye.

With a camera in your hand
It sees arrays of vegetation so grand
That a photo could never do it right
For it can never capture the sun’s great light.

The sand and the ocean are thirsty
They shout to the sun to please give them mercy.
And as the sun obeys
Sunlight sways over the waves.

A man and a woman
Are one
As sunlight and moonlight
Are one.

Like a splash of watercolor on a barren canvas
Sunlight flows like the fingertips of a pianist
And when sunlight reaches for the stars
She is finally ours.

Dance”
My mother would say
Each step was a look away
From the thoughts that surrounded me
As the music finally bounded
Who I was to become
5 year old me was filled with jumping and leaping
The rhythm holding back my weeping.

“Dance”
My mother would say
As she cooked dinner that day
My face flushed with the rednesses of our tomatoes
Although my stomach, filled with rainbows,
Begged my feet for sweet relief
13-year-old me knew what the heart wanted
Although my see-through reputation had already parted

“Dance”
My mother would say
As a text reflected into me like prey
As it burnt into my eyes like pepper spray
I couldn’t hear myself think
As the dance floor was covered in green and pink
And spilt around me was a drink
17-year-old me would tell myself “Not today”
Although I knew that idea would turn grey

“Dance”
He would say
As we stood in the ray of the refrigerator light
“Please, just a dance”
And almost like I was in a trance
I started to advance into a dance
Releasing shackles of fear
In hopes of never reappearing
23-year-old me danced
Danced until my P.Js were soaked with my sweat
Danced for all the memories I hadn’t met yet
And the one I was making with my silhouette

My mother spoke to me one day
She asked to dance
And she knew with just a glance
“Of course”
I said
And I danced
For every baby babble
For every whiff of her dinner that day
For every new refrigerator we bought
Although I may not have loved them very much
I danced for them