Posts
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Martha's decision (inspired by the book "Prep" by Curtis Sittenfeld)
It was the little things that made Martha want to leave home.
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Thinking About You
I never thought about you in the daytime
When the sun spread like melted butter over the dwindling
Blueberry bushes.
I’d scavenge with them
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A Villanelle
The pool is open, did you not hear?
There’s a banner in town advertising it.
Summer hasn’t yet slipped from my fingertips.
I almost want to cry
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Fragile
Spring is a blossom crushed
Unbeknownst to you, in your clammy palm.
It’s a season made of glass,
Fragile, disintegrating
Like the April showers filling
Cracks in the pavement.
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Mauve
Mauve is the lipstick we stole from your mother,
smeared sideways across your mouth and all over
your Sprite bottle,
a clandestine weight in your pocket
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hummingbird girl
She's hidden, cowering in the corner,
as she waits, mouth open,
words frozen on her lips.
She does not speak.
I mold my sadness into poetry and she watches me,
amber eyes taking in everything and nothing.
Loves
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Sew Me A Quilt?
I want your freckled cheeks and blond eyelashes
and I want your flying hair
and I want your careful words that start tumbling fast,
woven together,
please
so I can wrap myself up
and remind myself of happy.
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Memories and solid things
If I could weave the memories of you in a giant blanket
The night sky would appear
Or maybe the streets of that one city in Central America
The unspoken words caught in a language barrier
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She Breathed the World Through Poetry
And it tucked wildflowers
Between the pages,
Petals and pollen spiralled
Like constellations,
Still whispering of the breeze
And of the shooting stars;
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17
on the night that you broke your eyes open,
cried into candy packets you found at the petrol station smelling like gasoline and regret
in your still-standing baby teeth like slabs of sugared marble there were
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orANGes aRe not the onlY fruit
The island on wheels in the middle of our kitchen still smells new on the inside
If you've ever put your nose right up against an old plank of wood, you'd know the smell--that, and Styrofoam painted blue
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crawdad song
you get a line & i'll get a pole
honey - honey! july thickens, slows to a stop outside, get
your rod and line, the ones that used to be your father's. get
your heart from the closet and your coat from the floor,