Month: February 2014

‘He’s Our Guest.’

I saw the devil that night

he slept in your eyes

just as he does mine.


Time and time again

I do not let him wake

and yet I find you tend

to invite him for dinner.

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Temple

Run out of the shower to an empty house

hair soaked and dripping on the hardwood floor

a warm terry towel wrapped underneath your arms

free, clean, beautiful.

run your fingers though the thick, sleek curls of your lions mane

toss it forward & bring it close to your nose

it smells of vanilla mint tea

drop the towel on your bed, no need to be ashamed.

stand in front of the mirror and stare

do a twirl, twist your body side to side, whip your hair,

stick your tounge out, make sexy faces, don’t be shy.

brush you skin with lotion-

long arms, tanned & scarred

long legs, prickly & thick

torso too, pear-shaped and absolutely beautiful.

I’d Like To Stay The Night With You.

There’s a girl in southern Connecticut who drinks caramel fraps faithfully

and sings Billy Joel with everything she’s got

with such conviction and clarity

and I know its only because she couldn’t do it any different

like she’d die if anything she did wasn’t committed from passion.

But you know something?

she can’t make eye contact without biting her bottom lip

when she talks about that boy Mike and god damn,

its like one of my favorite things on this planet.

Is that wrong?

Her mouth does these unconscious half grin thing

you know, the little smile that just sneaks up on you

and not a thing could be done to stop it.

Fallible

He made me feel human. We could yell at each other- he’d scream at the top of his lungs- angry words that course cold through my veins and yet I knew that he couldn’t love me any less even if he tried.

There was passion. I have never had anyone make me laugh so hard or with such unstoppable force. Is that love? Can you just qualify something like that as a symptom of love? Or a reason for the delusion?

Water coming out of my nose, tears streaming down my skin, stomachs in our hands, there was something you couldn’t take away from us. We were human.

The Hoosier

Find me a woman more poetic in her words & more honest in her actions

and you’ll have found grace itself.

she walks like today is the first day she’s ever lived and God,

welcoming that morning sky is an honor.

I look at her blonde hair and through her blue eyes

and there is nothing there I don’t wish I could be.

With a sharp tongue and a heavy heart

and maybe sometimes swollen knees

she stands at peace with herself

life doesn’t weigh her fair skin down

it is held in the palm of her hand.

She’s A Long Way Gone

She used to drink her Pepsi with milk and treat me like a mother should.

she burnt every meal ever cooked in that little apartment

but she tried very hard and I loved her for that.

I loved her unconditionally, because that’s just what little girls do.

her and I shared the same wide smile that showed off our rosy cheekbones,

but I knew as she looked at me, she also saw a piece of my father.

maybe my straight light brown hair,

or the stubborn look on my face caught her eye.

I could always tell, she wasn’t just smiling at my face, but my fathers as well.

There was pride in that. Daddy’s little girl.

Yet as I grew older, my mother & father fought.

He spit embers with his words & they burn tiny holes into my mother’s clothes.

All she sees is that tiny mouth of mine shaped just like his, ready and armed.

There is a likeness in my temper, in my eyes and there is no stopping what I cannot change.

Yes, I am my father’s child.

He is safe and kind and who I have known all my life.

& he may not belong to you anymore, Mother.

I know that.

But I am still supposed to be yours.

Please come back.

Not Well.

I could not believe the lifeless pale of your skin

or that insufferably numb look in your eyes

You’ve always been good at pretending to look better

and sound better than the way you felt

but this time I know

hell, the whole world knows

you feel rotten

and flushed out.

you’re filling your stomach now

with little pillbox remedies

just trying to stay half full

and what a shame.

You look so sick.

I Know There Is Dial Tone On The Other End, But I’m Speaking Anyways.

I’ll have you know, I don’t shake when I speak your name and I have boxed all of your pictures away. I have stopped wondering where you are, most of the time. I pretended not to notice your birthday had just passed. It is almost Christmas. There is snow on the ground, just a little.

You look great. how are the birds? Is your liver holding up ok. (and if i’m bold enough) your heart? you’ve grown, I see. Well, I meant was the hair on your face is longer, the bags under your eyes are heavier, your eyes themselves seem a little darker too. I suppose that’s none of my business though. Do you still work two jobs? Are you passing your classes. Does your mom ask about me? Does it still bug you when you pass that salon? It bugs me now, for a different reason. Probably because I remember that conversation so clearly.

I can’t stand the taste of Chinese food anymore. I mean, I never could, it always gave me a stomach ache, you know. But now, to be quite honest it just makes me wish for you. Isn’t that funny though? Something I hated when we were together is what makes me miss you. I guess a lot of our relationship was like that.

I feel so small now. There are so many things we have done together that I do alone now. Or worse, with someone else. I passed Hero’s Tunnel the other day, without our music blasting on high, without the obnoxious yelling between us and I just wanted to stop and turn back in the middle of the parkway. I made a wish under the amber lights and I pray to God He protects me from what I want.

There are too many fragments of you. Broken bits everywhere. I want to pick up every piece, throw my knees on the floor and mop up every sliver with my hands, even if that means cutting myself open wide.

But that’s crazy. that’s crazy.

A Sick Satisfaction

I drive to work, past the duck pond and I see our silhouettes

whispering in the windshield as we coast out of town,

down towards the harbor

we crept out of our beds and left long before daybreak

just to watch the swans and kiss as the sun rose.

we fed them that entire box of saltine crackers

the one I bought to make you make little pepperoni sandwiches

while I waited for you to get out of therapy the week before

I sat in that car for an hour and a half just to make sure you were happy.

and that’s another one I can’t seem to shake.

I have too many memories of you.

I mean what kind of sick satisfaction is this

holding onto a feeling and a memory that was

a person

that does not listen

will not love you

well, I live them over and over and over

& I’ll see you tonight when I close my eyes

but I don’t ever want you to come back.