Jan 21


She told us to write about the beach.
7 minutes.
but only if we wanted to.
She said to look at the board and
use the sun glazed sand and water as inspiration.
But only if it inspired us.
I do have a connection to that picture.
it does mean something to me.
But what it stands for and what it could be
are two different things.
My mind keeps wandering back to lilacs
and the thought of spring.
Being in my grandfather's gardens
it took him 50 years to build.
I'm wandering down a city avenue
watching as buildings attack the sky
and little kids blow bubbles.
She said we could wriet about the beach.
For 7 minutes.
My mind is anywhere but there.
Stepping stones under beech trees, 
think I fell in the creek on purpose.
I'm supposed to think about the beach.

Jan 11

Ordinary people

I used to think we could do anything, love

But maybe we are only ordinary people

I’ve only got a year to love you

So let me make this quick

Thank you for the happiest year of my life

It’s truly been astonishing

The pictures we’ve painted together are breathtaking, and I wish we could live in them for the rest of our lives


I’m filling up with darkness now, love

And I don’t know how to keep myself from sinking

And though you’ve said you’ll follow me into the water

You shouldn’t drown too

Not for me

I used to think we were unstoppable, love

But maybe we are only ordinary people

That we could hang on forever, throw each other a rope and hold tight

I think we still can

But the rope is fraying, love

The knots are slipping and catching, over and over
Jan 07

January 6th 20__

January 6th

three signifigant things happened
stuck in my head

The day of my brother's birthday
He turned 14, my grandfather
has started calling him Young Man
no longer just Grandson
I handed him a balloon in school, big and colorful, and he
took it and gave me a smile that made him look older
Because he suddenly is
Read his birthday book, the grey cloth covered journal
my mother writes in every year on his special day
Cried when they brought back memories
(Yes, I am an emotional person. Sue me)
of me sitting on the couch and holding him, both of us turning into cowboys for a day
His big brown eyes peering up at the camera mom was holding
trying to capture this moment of him, sitting in a 5 gallon bucket, eating blue chalk
but that was 11 years ago
on January 6

The anniversary of
Jan 06
poem challenge: Someone

Know herself

She used to never be scared
She used to be quiet and meek and obedient
She used to speak and be heard because
she was only repeating what she had been told
She used to wreathe her hair in flowers, sweet innocence for a crown
She used to laugh only because she found every joke funny

She used to be real only because she had nothing to fake
She used to take everything with a pinch of sugar only because no one offered her any salt
She used to be happy only because she didn't have to pretend to be okay
She used to not argue and just pout
She used to dance everywhere, music or not, because she felt the freedom of her body
The world was her stage and she was the actor
She hadn't been broken yet
She used to be known by everyone
only because she didn't know herself
Jan 04

Home and House

This is a Home.

A home is warm

The floors are sanded and scuffed 

By socks with holes

And dirt tracked in by a boy and his dog

The pillows on the overstuffed couches match somewhat, 

But not too much

The table is scratched and worn down

With card games and plated of food

And the kitchen walls are crowded with cupboards

Cluttered mudroom, scattered shoes and kind, muted darkness

The living room walls are covered

In random paintings and pictures, 

Collected from everywhere.

Warm yellow light spills over everything and the Christmas tree stays up

Well into January.

This is a Home.

It’s held together by fierce love and strength,pushing through the darkness

So you can find the bright spots.

You are remembered.

This is a Home.
Dec 26

Never gonna forget

I will remember these numbers forever
and not because they're a palindrome...

Took a few tests
a few weeks back

Sat on a table covered in paper and watched blood
drain out of my body into tubes.
Four of them, all different.
Different colors for
different things but all of them
were filled with the same blood.

I watched this happen, watched
as the needle was pulled out of my arm
and cotton was pressed down against my skin and
a bandaid was placed on top.
I was told not to remove it for at least a half hour.
Finished the appointment and walked out.
It hadn't even been five minutes.
I ripped off the bandage.
"Let me bleed", 
I thought.

The test results came in.
I never got my blood back.
I got something else instead.
Dec 17

Terror is valid

For the first time in my life I am terrified.
Terrified for my life and the lives of others. 
Because this is real, this is actually happening.
Standing on the front steps before class, hearing murmurings 
in the classrooms, half the students, including me, are here.
The teachers inform us what the lockdown protocol will be if there is need,
how we can go home if we don't feel safe.
Show us where the darkrooms are, lock the doors.
Whispers in the hallways, everyone looks tense.
School shooting, 
they whisper.
We have been threatened with a school shooting.
No one knows what to do –
fake laughter and scared eyes fill the school
and for the first time ever
I am terrified.
Terrified for my life and the lives of others.
Dec 03

The beauty of a word

 These are cells dividing
Two people going their separate ways.
Atoms exploding, this is--
This will be--

Welcome to your ruination--
This is how it starts--

The lights will flicker on and off, 
Flowers will spider their way up the cracks of the walls
And water will form staircases for you to walk up.
It will be a beautiful ruination, yes.
But it will be yours.

Watch as mirrors shatter into strands and string across the limitless ceiling,
As fish grow wings and are no longer confined to their silvery skins.
You will no longer be blood and dust and bone, but--
 A paper mache creature made of looking glass that
Catches the sky in a million hands, a creature of copper wire shattered.
White paint splashed over the floor, whitewash, a new start.
This ruination, it will be glorious, it’s true. You will love it and wish it over and again--
Nov 28

Bro ken P erson

I am so tired.
All the time.

I have happy moments.
Like this snow, this snow that is falling.
That is happy.

I left footprints in the snow.
They looked exactly as I knew they would.
I was not wearing socks.
Or shoes.

I have decided I do not like periods they mark the end.
But I still use them.
Because I think there must be an end.
That is how it always is.

I read a book 
called We Were Liars
And it was beautiful and frightning and terrible
And it explained the human brain
Linked in a few heartbeats.

It is only when I am.
Laughing with my friends about how we are not okay.
And I know I am not okay, not at all.
It is only those moments when I feel okay.

I am so tired.
All the time.

No one knows why because I don't tell them.
Nov 28

Blank and blue

This is a distant memory
one that I thought I'd let go, a long long time back

This is a bird that got away from me
Not that I ever meant to capture it
You seldom do

She's standing there holding a painting of white flowers
glinting soft blue around the edges
Their highlights of cream and wistfulness catch your eye, make you look
make you taste mint and basil
Even as your gaze moves past the painting to the person holding it
And then you see nothing but her

This is a distant memory
I thought would be less painful
One whose edges would have by now smoothed over
But no, it still feels like shards of ice pressing
into my mind
I didn't mean to hurt her
You seldom do

Her honey gold skin I can still picture, her eyes
that held stories, you could just
fall into them