Writing

I was never allowed in the basement, 

there was always a lock on the door,

and my parents avoided telling me why.

Great parenting strategy, 

not even making up a lie for me,

The sky wears billowing gowns, layers

Upon layers of silk fluttering

With the breeze, and

She dances in it with ease, never

Tripping or stumbling but

I talked with this third grader on the bus

she asked to see my watch face. 

I showed her and said, 

"this is me and my boyfriend at a concert we played

at the Flynn"

are you still in love?

It really sucks to be a girl

In a man's world

Everything designed

So it is never your time

Everything is rigged so you don’t succeed

The girls,

the little kids on the bus, 

switching seats and grabbing friends and TALKING

loud and jarring

life is joy, to them,

life is play.

I want them to stay there.

[This is a reposted edited version of a previous poem of mine.]

when all we have is spent–

what will we have left?

people once before us–