Posts
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Growing Up
She used to listen to the snow and think about how beautiful the world was, how magical.
How perfect, pristine, like a flower curled in a tiny fist.
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Snow Does Something Magical
Snow does something magical, I think;
Creating a blank skate, can I start over now?
It fuels first loves, the paths criss-crossing in a storm, a blizzard that lingers in the memories.
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Loves
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pain of indifference
At the hurl of a storm, the tree collapses.
Stagnant from then on, broken. Such an easy thing to be.
In the unpredicted wind, it sways
back and forth on its trunk, tendons straining
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Nine Lives
If I had nine lives, I would spend the first one jumping from a tall mountain, the wind in my hair, and filling my lungs, the full feeling of freedom. After that, maybe I'd find peace and wouldn’t fear the mountains.
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I Notice
They don't think I notice
They don't think I notice how stingy we're becoming:
They don't think I notice the reluctance to use the propane heat.
They don't think I notice how cold it is when I crawl out of bed every morning.
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My Faith
I’ve never been religious much —
My Faith is in the trees.
The sort of Lord I worship flies among the Bumblebees.
And my idea of Heaven is buried ‘neath Her leaves —
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Mundane
a lesbian couple on my bus home from school
a man in a punk battle jacket on the street
my mother's female CEO group chat blowing up
four of my teachers taking the following day off
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What Books Get Wrong About Old Houses
You can't skip over the third stair
if you're sneaking into the kitchen
because all the stairs creak,
just in different ways.
They don't talk about the light
in the closet