Poetry

The moon whispers

Oh so quietly, yet

It is louder than all else

Its words wind through the frozen trees and dance across the sparkling snow, the forest still but for its wavering reminder that

The house was on fire, 

And the ceiling fell.

But when it did, 

It didn't land well.
 

It was your cause of death,

At just fourteen. 

You had to leave, 

Chamomile tea on a winter's day is

Comforting as a warm hug

Soothing as ointment on chapped skin 

Steaming like the lazy trail of smoke from a chimney

Wonderful like a homemade thank you card 

First transgender representative 

First protester

First lesbian senior 

First Muslim mayor 

First to take a stand

First in history

But that's not the point is it?

Not at all

I,
the me,
the oxymoron.

Swallow your tears.

No crying in public.

Why are you surprised?

This has been happening since you were two.

He’s the angel

You’re not.

I'm American born and raised 

not enough pay 

I'm an American women through and through

women don’t get to choose

I live in Vermont

why does he always get what he wants

some people stay up to ring in the new year,

watch it burst like a glittery balloon

over the midnight horizon, count down the seconds

til it starts over again. they dress up,

Açai with granola and fruit, 

as silky as a stream down low.  

A perfect treat to escape the brute. 

The lights in each of the doll houses are off.

I, a giant, wander insignificant

Among the grains of sand.

When at last I reach the sea,

I let it take me, 

Dirt and grime and grease

So many times you will see

someone on the street who you will never meet

again, and believe you could fall in love.

You will look back, and they will not be looking

at you.

A few times you will think

sweet, spicy, tteokbokki,

with many confusing Korean double letters

you are my favorite

as well as my seongsaengnim's