and here you are living
despite it all
a weak heart beating in spite of itself.
the sun rising in spite of itself.
suddenly there is gratefulness
in the way you paint your mouth
in the bathroom mirror.
suddenly music has grown
a new necessity
loud, louder, drown everything.
the hours present like
ocean waves in your chest
breathlessness to appreciation
of silver moon on silver water.
the irony lies in the excited chatter of
birds outside your bedroom window,
their days fuller than yours.
your second son kicks you awake
reminds you of the way your body moves
even when you can’t bear the thought of it.
Hi guys! Remember me?
I know it’s been quite a while…but for good reason, I promise.
I’ve been keeping most of my writing under wraps because I’ve been working on my very first chapbook, and I am excited to announce that it is finally finished, and available for purchase on Amazon in both print and Kindle e-book form. I decided, at least for now, that self publishing was the best path for my work. The cover art was done by my great friend and tattoo artist, and I am over the moon with how it turned out. I can only hope the poems inside live up to the beautiful cover.
If you’re interested in purchasing a copy of my debut chapbook, all these things that haunt you, just head on over to Amazon!
Or, click this link.
Thank you all for the support you’ve given me on my blog over the years. I really hope you enjoy this chapbook; it’s been an exciting ride putting it together, and every piece is near and dear to me. Some you may have seen before, but most are brand new.
And if you do choose to purchase one, don’t forget to leave me a review on Amazon!
Thank you again. I’m looking forward to taking a breather and delving back into WordPress for a while. See you all around!
mother folds the rug back
while father sweeps
mother stirs the pot
while father fixates
on a crack in the ceiling
anything but the way
my shoulders jackhammer
while i am begging him
in some devastated tongue
to see me in some light, any light
they say a mother’s love knows no bounds
but what happens when your own mother
is so broken she cannot lift a hand
to see the way it looks so much like your own?
i am screaming with my mouth shut
and i’ve run out of bandages
to keep my bones from breaking
in one fragile swoop like some cheap trinket
i am grasping at straws made of sand
they turn to dust in my grasp
like this mirage that tries to
tell me i have a family
i kneel behind my son in damp grass
wrap both hands around his waist
point at whatever wonder the day is bringing
and i think: i’ve done this, haven’t i?
i’ve been on the other side of this
hands around my waist, so small
somewhere in the fog of another life.
you ask how I’m managing
but you cut your ears off
fingers smooth as
tree bark touch my wrist
there are daisies where your
eyes should be
you’re all I write about –
did you know this?
don’t be flattered
it’s easier to
write about misery
than it is to
write about love
to write about love
is to try slowing the
beating of your heart
to match the pace of your fingers
like holding a moth
in cupped hands
she wakes to lavender
pooling in all her fleshy,
she had the dream
of all dreams last night:
staring through a dirty wine glass
like a drunken fortune teller
she saw life as it could be
by the softening glow of
holiday lights in city summer.
somewhere far from here
for the first time
she was good enough.
My neck’s grown tired of always
holding up all the darkness in my head
but I am accustomed to backstroking
against this current; the absentminded
muscles I’ve developed tell me so.
Once I was a baby,
once I didn’t know the ache of unhappiness
but only the forgettable way my small mouth
formed words no one understood.
When I turned into a woman
my heart went all soot and damp earth.
People made it so. The ones I chose to love in fact.
Each unhinged my ribcage and stuffed it with warm deceit.
I’m a modern day Medusa
stuck staring at unwell-adjusted me,
busy chiseling the corners of my mouth
into the slightest of smiles.
Somewhere, ages ago now
I was setting sail on bones and ash,
catching the wind with an old t-shirt,
watching you and everything I knew
turn doll-size in the distance.
Miles had spread at a viral rate
by the time I went overboard and you
were already there to buoy me back to shore,
to refill my chest with all the reasons there were to stay
and when I opened my eyes all I noticed was the
brilliant orange of the sun as it left us.
So I’ve been using all your edges to keep me upright
but you’ve never seemed to mind (you’re too busy
seeing me in some post-apocalyptic calm, something
I cannot), you who chooses over and over to
stand out in the rain with me.
It’s all so surreal now, way back behind us,
and it feels like someone else’s temporary sorrow
when we are here, cradling the shiny newness of a
living, breathing thing that has your mouth, my chin, your nose.
It is almost impossible to think how simple
a decision it was, to look into your eyes, nod, press my mouth,
my body to yours and suddenly we were changed.
I think I’ll spend forever thanking you.
matters of the heart
smoked up rooms
where you lay down your bones
when you’re feeling
I sport wallpaper skin
you nail photographs
to my chest
around our shortcomings
I’ve never been one for interpretive dance –
all elbows, you are
whole body, I am
I steer my grief
so much like a ship’s sails
around your ambiguity
that is haunting me
I used to make these
scrawled onto scrap
paper written desperately
with ink in a
child’s old journal sometimes
even on my hands, my arms,
those problematic thighs
beneath the school desk
of nothing inspirational
no to-dos or groceries,
teeth not white enough
laughter not bright enough
too thick, too sensitive
too much of nothing.
eventually I burned all the
stationery I stopped
reminding myself of
silly human imperfections
even stopped looking in
the mirror for a while
because if I couldn’t
love me at least I
could forget what it
was I longed to
change, and I have
since glimpsed my
reflection in those
who’ve tried to
tell me what is
good and every time
I stay a little longer,
look a little deeper,
maybe even understand.