Mar 13

Tale As Old As Time

this box of darkness, mine
i am running from you, father time
catch me if you can at the
turn of a dime,
sleight of hand,
a quarter from my ear.
these hands of restlessness, ours
we sit silent in uncomfortable cars
more than anything we wish to stare at the stars
i’ve been told about this feeling of not having
enough hours, not having enough time,
putting your emotions behind bars and
locking the cell with twine.
this mind of ambition, mine
my plans are as straightforward as a traffic sign
you wish that you were half as smart as i,
yet when our GPAs are revealed senior year,
you won’t be the only one wishing you had spent fewer
days dreaming about apartments in the east village.
these crazy years, ours
someday we’ll look back at these poems,
surrounded by dust in a musty attic or basement,
hidden in a box marked “CHILDHOOD”
Mar 13


you are my refrain
slink into my thoughts
again and again
i think of you
i wish it wouldn’t be
in all my poems, every haiku
there’s a giant sea
i swim in it
& you wait for me
you are my refrain
slink into my thoughts
maybe i’ll send you a letter
today, maybe then i would feel better
maybe you need to see my face,
maybe we’re just not in the right place
you are my refrain
bring me back from the pain
i’ll let go when you let go
you are my refrain

Mar 13

Line Break: Episode 1

Feb 20


i know where you like to hide.
i know that your fingernails like to
tap along the wall of a blue whale heart,
i know that you like to see how small
your body can become inside an artery.
i know you prefer human hearts on occasions-
when the blue whale heart becomes
too stiflingly large,
too anonymous, not nearly enough control.
i know you hate anything that stands before you,
i know your mittens are often looped together like handcuffs
and your scarf appears like a noose.
i know you like to shimmy into veins,
swim in the dark dangerous blood,
stain the bones with despair,
blame it on chicken pox and be on with your life.
i know your type-
staying just long enough to make a difference
and leave a footprint on my chest,
but i know that your feet are too small
to have any weight,
and the prints left on me are self-made.
Feb 20

Dear Iris

I wonder where you will be in a few years
if you will read this poem and roll your eyes
at the way I idealized everything, the way
the ferocious teenager writing this poem
is so desperate to become a version of herself
that isn’t fully formed yet;
to become someone who is sophistication and
selflessness personified.
If you’re reading this and trying to remember
who you were at sixteen years old,
you should probably ask yourself first:
am I still that teenager, still the one with blue eyeliner
and a curling iron, and poems enough to fill
the heart of a blue whale with room to spare,
am I still that girl?
Am I still the one who counts her publications-
I think it was 37, but maybe 38, but maybe it doesn’t matter,
but maybe my worth does not depend on reading my poems
in the back section of the newspaper on Friday mornings.
Maybe my poems are extra-
Feb 10

Chapter 16: Risotto & Poetry

I am me; imagination, creativity, and big plans in an even bigger world. I am me; a girl with glasses and dreams and a restless feeling in my heart to be someone.

I’m clumsy and I laugh a lot, and sometimes I forget what I’m saying in the middle of a sentence. I’m short and think my nose would look better on a hawk. I only paint my nails when I want to be glamorous, then I peel off the polish because I don’t recognize my hands when I look at them. I don’t forgive people easily and I’m a professional at holding onto grudges.
Dec 17

evolution of humankind

we evolved
the wings that once sprouted from our shoulder blades

they couldn’t stay-

humans aren’t supposed to fly
we never should have learned how to be in the sky

because once you love something so impossible

you can never let it go
so on that day forever ago

amid the thrashing landscapes and the tepid waterfalls

the humans stood-
gathered like the monarchs before migration, 

they stood like us today

in a sort of unity that we do not understand anymore
and as the waves slowly licked the rocky shore

our feathered wings molted away from our bodies 

and were ground, by the wind, the air, the rain, 

into the grass
we evolved

because our bodies know it isn’t healthy 

to give humans the power to fly
Dec 17


I created you. 
I fed you spoonfuls of ink dipped in 
I made you who you are. 
I covered you in soft metaphors, 
made sure the similes were tucked
tight under your chin. 
I sang you a lullaby that made no
sense but you repeated it back
I walked with you through the 
years, your silhouette shadowing 
me at all times. 
I gave you life. You cannot say that 
you were never mine. 
But then. 
Then you were not mine, when I 
wrote you all over paper and
showed pictures of you to everyone
I just wanted to share. I didn't think
it would feel like I was betraying 
So the covered parts, the parts of 
you and I that aren't often revealed, 
were on display. 
The museum tickets were free and 
everyone came to see what you 
Like a zoo animal they watched
Those little metaphors I handled so 
Dec 17

"No, That's It."

also, i don't think you should
leave me here in the icicle 
darkness, with a folding chair
and audience of imaginary friends 
as company. 

also, i'm not done telling you 
everything i have to say-
there's more about how much you
hurt me, there's more about the 
invisible violet spots on my collarbone. 

also, i think you should know
that i will never have enough words-
if i could i would let them spill
out like slashed guts, but my ink
would run over the edges
and the words would get lost
somewhere in the Pacific. 

also, i don't like how you've stopped ignoring me-
i think you should go back to pretending
i don't exist- i especially think that
you should let a deranged possum have a 
sleepover with you-

also. i'm not really looking for revenge. 
i'm not here to be an attacker or all-powerful monarch. 
i'm not here to control you. 
Nov 19


Pick a card, any card.
Cheap tricks are your 
specialty, anyway. 
I'd like a disappearing act-
maybe this time 
I'll know not to 
wait for you to come back. 
Maybe this time I 
won't search for you like a key-
the only lock you have is
somewhere down in 
Hades' land. 
Show me your best poker face-
I'll see the lies
creasing near your nose, 
and maybe this time 
I'll know not to chase after
you on the pavement. 
Pull a rabbit from your hat-
better yet, pull 
an apology from your mouth.
Possibly containing a typo. 
Maybe this time 
I'll see that the worst thing 
I can say is, 
So go on now, 
do your tricks. 
Find whatever you need 
in the applause. Filter
out the boo's. 
Laugh, maybe. Smile to 
yourself. Above all, 
do whatever you do 
that makes you 
forget I was ever more