Musings and Misgivings
a million screaming voices
hang like moss in my throat
I want to hold you up
with the roughs of my tongue,
you’re in every word
that I can’t get out
instead, my mouth clicks
and quivers and I drown
myself in confusion
until I’m convinced
you’ll flee before I can cut
back the moss, swing out on a vine,
and say I love you
please stay
4-5-19
he couldn’t strip me
of my color,
though he wished
I wasn’t bright
he couldn’t keep me
hidden from curious eyes,
though he tried to bury my name
he couldn’t keep my spirit soaring
lower than his own,
though he tried to strap his shame
like weight on my wings
he couldn’t break me
like a horse
(I broke away)
4-4-19
when you drink from
the fountain of youth,
you steal it from the children
while you stock up on gold,
they’re drinking only silver
until their throats catch fire
and their brains smolder in ash
you’ve never been a giver
so they asked you to take
the heavy metals
they threw their hopes and dreams
at your feet like pennies in a wishing well
still you only felt the paper in your pocket,
not the beating of your heart
4-3-19
How could she not love you
the way you walk with your shoulders forward,
pushing glaciers north,
carving mountains behind you
the way you melt ice
with the grays of your eyes
and pool that water
in the blues
the way your laugh shakes your cheeks
and the ground beneath you
the way it sings in her heart
and mine
4-2-19
Can you lick your own wounds
if someone else has your tongue?
The white oak breaches the clouds
from a field of tall grass,
its seed, once carried on the wind,
took root with little support
from the elements and peers
it guards its autonomy
with open space
and stays postured
for the valley storms
So why does it take a village
to pump your blood?
4-1-19
I am baking in the earth’s crust,
burning out and settling in
The fabric of another life folds
like a patchwork quilt on the table before him
My fingers streak through his hair
and pave new pathways
he can feel, but can’t see
I sip him like hot coffee
in a cold car,
steam fogs the windshield
and I squint to find my place
I can’t see, but I feel him
in the back of my throat
and the pit of my stomach
burning up and settling in
3-18-19
I’m watching Lucy bite into a wax apple,
her jaw clenches shut and her eyes bulge
when she realizes it’s stuck
I can almost hear my grandma’s siren laugh
pierce through the cackling audience
I can see her sprawling toothy grin
pinch her cheeks tight beneath bouncing red curls
Her shirt is still caked with flour and
she pecks like a chicken at the scraps on the stove.
She hasn’t had a hot meal since she was a childless nurse
She’s too busy pacing and darting and stirring and sweating
She’s quick to tell her husband to get out of the kitchen
and even quicker to steal the punchline
She doesn’t talk much, but I follow her
around like a curious bee, trying to keep up
with her buzzing spirit
One day I’m watching her wipe the sink
when she asks what kind of cake I want for my birthday
I show her a picture I saw in a Barbie catalog,
the cake hugs Barbie’s tiny frame
in the shape of an elegant ballgown
She tells me she doesn’t know the recipe
Suddenly I’m nine and
she calls me to the kitchen for breakfast
Barbie is centerstage on the counter
with a flowing white gown made
of marbled cake and cream cheese frosting.
Her plastic arms dangle delicately over
a pink ribbon hem and she smiles at me
as if I’m invited to the ball.
My grandma’s face is downturned as she flips the pancakes,
trying to conceal a giddy grin.
If she would look up, she would see my eyes
are no longer fixed on the cake,
but on the nurse who healed an aching heart
with some frosting and a ribbon
I am the princess of a broken home
but she is my homecoming queen
3-7-19
And just like that
I’m back on the switch,
feet dangling over the edge,
the trampoline below
a milky fog beckoning
in hushed tones
jump
the sky always opens in those moments,
its Jericho jaw swallows
the last kiss of regret
on my lips
as it steers me to Jordan
my thoughts of you span
the wings of condors
like black silk cutting through
the mist of that final morning
in Georgia, before
I don’t listen to the valley’s echo
any more than I listen to my own heart
01-30-19
I used to crouch in the dark
as if no one could see the light
trapped in my eyes
if I stayed down
no one would know
who put me there
when I finally saw you
when I really saw you
I realized I didn’t want to
back you into a corner
like she did to me
I wanted to bleed out
in vibrant, sunset red so you could see
how beautiful I could be
I am always scared
I keep pace with mice in cupboards
and blush when the sun steals glances
because I went without it
for so many years
yet here you are
in a room without blinds
and a house without corners
01-28-19
