Posts
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barcelona as the muse
the city is on your lips tonight
as you die in a feverish glory.
the world is not yours for the taking:
you are too young to be broken.
i laugh and watch
as you rearrange your life in circles— -
Tarragona as the muse
I'm told to write what I know
so here is what I know:
I was scared of the man on the train, the one
snorting lines between the cars.
I was scared he would lose his mind
walk out
and make a tear through my heart -
Your death as poetry
i.
you are not the poetry i’m used to. you are skin and bones and all the things i cannot say because i am too afraid to admit them. i am a coward: i did not say goodbye and i knew i would regret it.
ii. -
a love poem i want to forget
i.
he takes photos of everything
but i know he won’t go back and look at the ones of
me.
i feel stupid for hoping he will
because it’s been a year
and i still can’t get him out of my head. -
September 3rd
i got stung by a bee today & cursed in front of my grandpa. my finger swelled up to twice its normal size & i think my heart did too. i tossed the bee to the ground & stomped on it. i saw it twitching at its end. my heart broke. -
Loves
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instructions on growing up
If you wrap your hand around your mother's wrist
your fingers will touch. How
do you come to terms with that? How
do you learn that your father's shoulders
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An Afternoon Moon
Somewhere outside of Philadelphia,
there is a small island in a pond shaped like a boomerang.
When I tilt my chin to the heavens,
I wonder which foolish god
threw it to this barren part of earth?
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hurricane
there's a hurricane tomorrow, but we still
have school. hurricane, and you can smell it
boiling on the horizon, a heady, light-headed
sort of feeling, but my brother and i
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Cowboy, Come Home
He is a toy cowboy on a horse
and is dragged off into the sunset
while my stuffed bunny heart
waits in the backdrop to be held.
Our God is the small Girl who hides
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ballerina in a music box
anxiety goes tick-tick-tick
in the monochrome metronome of clockwork clicking
yet the key keeps turning, turning, turning,
'till creaking cogs are fit to crack