Posts
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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.
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Medicine
The wood is lush and dappled with light,
the first April flowers poking out of the ground, snow
melting under my bare feet.
The ache of you digs into my chest like a sharpened blade,
Loves
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To Georgia, On Leaving
you traded for freedom with fireflies,
gave up bug lights for city ones.you miss me like you miss fireflies;
a necessary surrender for your future. -
Josh—a bottle of wine
There is a sort of gentleness; a sort of beauty in the empty bottle of wine sitting on my dresser amongst more innocent things
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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