Phantom limbs ache far more
than wounded flesh.
Don’t put trust in the physical, futile things.
Linger on silver silhouettes
and deep belly whispers.
Things most true can’t be seen
but felt.
Can’t you tell?
the stirrings of something new
poetry
Journal Entry 5/15/21
You can pour sun into the darkness
and still never see the bottom of the well.
Monday Musings
Do you ever catch glimpses of the sun between dark patches of old?
When the world opens up for you like a woman and shows you the way
Suddenly every road, every stone is a gift to unfold.
Hold
There’s an insatiable hunger that food can never dull. It lives in the deepest crevice of your heart, and contorts your dreams till you’re sick. Feed it too much and the hunger spreads. Feed it too little and it’ll eat its way out. Feed it nothing – now that’s the trick.
Like a dog whose attention spans the world all at once, let the sky’s breath ruffle your hair. Stand under the sun till you ignite. Hold your mother’s hand.
Ignore the growl in your core till it turns into rhythm, a silk beat to walk in time to as you spread yourself thinner and thinner into dust because when you cease being wants, craves, and burns,
you’re cosmic.
Surface Tension
He held me on the sidewalk while bodies passed, dodging us like we were delicate birds in the middle of the road.
I stained his jacket like the rain looming above our heads threatened to stain the city.
We had been here before. Me grieving a loss of something I’d never had. Him towering over me like a building I could lock myself inside.
I used to think he waded in shallow waters while I sunk into the deep. I pictured his long tranquil body at the surface, a halo of sun emanating over the sea. I couldn’t reach it.
In the car I mourned the loss of nothing and felt myself sink. He held my hand just in time to keep me afloat. We locked eyes and fingers, igniting a forcefield to keep the world out.
Driving through the clutter, we escaped the muck that pressed onto our skin – mine always stickier than his it seemed.
When we were free I kissed him so he could feel the light he had left inside me.
It was then I knew we’d find our way together
through the rain,
the sea,
and up towards the sun.
Wasting Away
If only I could puke me out.
When I was done carving out my insides
I’d watch the ugly colorless excrement squirm on the floor.
______________________________________________________________________________
No need to kill it.
It’ll just die starving, waiting for nourishment like a newborn
– reaching out for hands.
______________________________________________________________________________
We’re all put off by our own vomit,
so I turn my back on it
because I’m clean now. I am.
______________________________________________________________________________
But wait,
a familiar acidic sting touches the back of my throat
– runs its fingers down my tongue.
______________________________________________________________________________
When I turn around the waste is standing behind me.
“Is something wrong?” it asks
– a foul smile forming on its face.
______________________________________________________________________________
And before I can answer I’m puking again.
My blood vessels burst all at once like a firecracker
And the lights go out for me too.
Slowing Down
Thoughts written on the back of specials menus during a late night serving shift
It shouldn’t be lonely to be alone. Resilience is knowing this, living without relying. Something I couldn’t fathom as a child when all my loved ones were drinking from a fountain of eternal youth and I was certain I’d be great.
How much can a person’s light fade before they disappear?
I keep turning onto dead ends, which is to be expected when you have no sense of direction. I dreamt I found my starting point. Feeling the sweet rush of a challenge suited for me, I embraced it like an old friend. I woke up with a dull pain in my chest. It’s been hard to b r e a t h e. Now I draw in tentative breaths that move as slow as I do.
Ode to Rose
I pull back my hair with your raisin clip
as you waltz in and out of rooms
Only you can paint with olive oil on Sunday morning
“Can I help with anything?”
Fine sesame hair, freckled skin that smells like sunrise
Your broken nail clings to my hair during braiding time
It’s only 7 am, but fresh bread’s on the table
Time for school
You waltz in and out of your island
I stick to you like honey when it’s time to go
That royal perfume always stains my dress
So I keep you close
I pull back my hair with your raisin clip
My reflection looks like you
It reminds me to stand up and carry on
Because there’s always more to do
Kitty
I spent my first five dollar bill on you.
I held your striped paw in one hand and gripped Papa’s calloused finger in the other.
Sometimes you were “she”, sometimes “he”, “it” even.
I named you Ashley for a day after watching an Olsen twins film. That didn’t suit you at all.
Sorry for smothering you.
Sorry about all the snot and tears that live inside your fur.
Samantha tossed you back and forth in the yard with a friend. I was the monkey in the middle. Your left eye came off, rolled past me on the cement path. I brought you home and cried into your ears.
Mama sewed you up like new.
Grandma gave you a bath in the underwater Ferris wheel and lavender filled my dreams.
Sometimes I swear you spoke to me, hugged me back as I held you.
I thought you could see me.
You’re tucked away behind a pile of clothes on a shelf in my old room. I don’t live there anymore.
Are you mad at me?
That matters somehow.
I’d still save you first from the fire.
*refer to my Kitty essay for more context*
Monte Verde
Let’s race like our Spy Kids days
through the wasted masses
Tequila threatens my insides
as the bass collapses
Our family’s far behind us
We’re dancing in a cloud
Marlboro smoke and gold confetti
Am I thinking out loud?
Weaving past stumbling bodies
My insides are crawling out
Outside the celestial labyrinth
tequila escapes my mouth
Art Alchemy 