Category: Poetry

To the captain of the concrete ship, I get it You’re trying to convince anyone to help you pull up that anchor For an hour, for a day If I were heavy like you, I might do the same I was the fool who thought this could be something Who thought when the weight was…

The boy with the concave chest Wanted the world to know he loved me He recycled poems and made gestures So over the top, you could see them from the moon He put words into my mouth And pulled them back out like a string of pearls clicking against teeth The boy with the concave…

Something about a sunny weekend Reminds me of you and melted push-pops And hard plastic shoes Baseball in the neighbor’s yard And standing on top of buckets To fill up water balloons Building forts out of anything we could find And laying on couches, crying with sunburns If we close our eyes hard enough, we…

After we part, I tell myself that next time I will not be so eager It takes one phone call to lose my resolve Your voice is cottony, like a warm towel You apologize and my cheeks swell with impossible little wins We make plans I walk on clouds for a few hours Until you…

Cousins More like war buddies We break in the same places We close our eyes and Smile at the same smells Coffee, grain and fingernail polish Holding hands through hell We were trauma bonded We did our hiding in closets instead of trenches In case of questions We took care to make our stories consistent…

Warmth from the sun on the back on her legs No need to squint; Anything that’s more than ten feet away doesn’t matter now She is completely abreast of his breathing Silent but she can see his chest rise and fall from the corner of her eyes Their skin radiates; Not touching but hyper aware…

Vulnerability Is a gift you pulled from me Like  a dentist at 7 a.m. on a Sunday To this day When I see your face I can hear the hum and the buzz of the drill I have enjoyed it Like a masochist flossing Between what is and what could someday be  

When I die I hope they say I was tenacious I hope they say I wrapped my chubby, pale fingers around the world and shook Holding on to everything I possibly could When I die I hope they tell you that I loved myself I hope they say I was beautiful and confident, not puffy-eyed…

Death and I are so close We talk politics over coffee He greets me like an old friend We’ve got a special handshake And in-jokes from years passed He doesn’t play chess No, Bergman has him all wrong He prefers a puzzle with as few pieces as possible And a cold beer in the evening…