Writing

This is from a longer project of mine, but I really liked how this stanza turned out, and I think it kind of works on its own.

I flip through the first

Couple of pages,

I was around nine years old when I started to hate myself...

I was never good enough

I would tell myself...

I stopped eating

I skipped meals

I kept quiet because

I was never good enough

Mama/an eagle. 
We/weasels/deer in headlights. 
She flies on. We stay. 

step outside

the breeze is blowing

wisps of cirrus cloud

the sky is blue

the geese are leaving

farewell

we say

and don't mean it

mean it please for once

the turning leaves will thank you

The moon hangs low tonight,

quiet as a thought not yet spoken.

Her light hovers over rooftops

and sifts through the cracks in curtains,

touching everything gently,

Juice tastes like your spit on my lips

It overflows, slides down the point of my chin--

I can see the dirt, the darker spots

It smells like my backyard, like orange blossoms in the spring time