And then I saw you Cold waves Pass over me You were a moment in time A capsule Of who I was That summer a girl Who thought she could love And be loved The pounding in my heart Now a soft knock From the opposite side I lament and accept
He likes the girls who have blonde, sunny hair He likes the girls who throw parties at their parents boat house every weekend The ones who got a car for their high school graduation The ones who look like the girls spread over a boat in Vogue The ones whose mothers let them have sleepovers… Continue reading In the music
By mossy rocks down the river she lay Beaming sky shined her hair so red Her skin twinkled so white The river so blue Under bright moonlight Ear-splitting screams heard in morning My mother buzzed around dusting What she could find She smoothed out creases On birth certificates Placed diplomas in glossed wood frames… Continue reading Proof
Another painting My knuckles have gone white from holding on to the rails, My eyes so tightly shut I see stars in the dark, My stomach has twisted and reached over to tickle itself, I'm ready for the fall, ready for the drop in the rollercoaster where my hands will fly up and I'll scream… Continue reading Carnival Games
my mother said Si te barro los pies no te vas a casar o encontrar amor, recuerda de levántarlos If I broom your feet you won't get married or find love, remember to lift them just one of many superstitions my mother inherited from her mother I've done almost everything right, followed the rules, read… Continue reading the curse of the broom
Another abstract painting done by me. I'm aware I am not a good painter or that I even can. But I kind of like choosing an image from the poems I write and visually painting them with color and shapes. I spend my Friday morning playing a game of "he likes me, he likes me… Continue reading A Friday in Three Parts
I want to tell my mother about the knot in my throat About how It’s been lodged there for a decade how I’ve told her before without ever using the word “knot” or “throat” How I wished, hoped that this mother-daughter bond would include intuition or telepathy About how its been there so long I… Continue reading Untitled #2
How do you move on? Do you do it slowly, like a tightrope walker, a delicate balance between safety and doom? Do you pack up everything you have left into a box and make a run for the back door? Do you hand in a notice and lay it all out on the table? Do… Continue reading How Do You Move on?