(spring storm)

Thunder, my top hat.
Lightning pinstripes slick-sheened limbs.
I am dressed with rain.

(she has seen men die)

She has seen men die.
He turned to light. Then I knew. 
We are of the same.

(lest ye be judged)

Do not judge that man,
Who falls deep asleep in church.
Perhaps he dreams God.

(Inanimate Metaphor Series 1)

I'm a laundry bag.
You fill me. Spin, make me wet.
Cycle back to dry.

(the night before they put me to sleep)

Please. I am so scared.
Small alone in this wide bed.
Hoping to wake up.

([bi]polarity)

Boy you toy with me.
Douse me in warm-cold water.
Watch me gasp, dripping.

(unintentional vehicular homicide)

All this was darkness.
Soundtrack of mutilation.
Bodies by Blood Rd.

(first roots, then)

Looking down, walking.
Saw roots, beginnings of trees.
Saw, and raised her head.

(bring everywhere)

Bring everywhere:
A right approach, Sight, paper.
Pens. Your heart. Some snacks.

(in this I see)

There's a part that sheds.
And a part that's there, after.
In this I see God. 

(marries the wind)

Her mouth, hands were leaves.
Fluttering shaking, dance. Fall. 
Wind picks up, she's gone.

(you mar yourself)

I am stuck angry.
Can't sleep, breathe, or let it go.
Gone, still you mar me.

(young professional eating a granola bar while listening to music on the subway)

He chews, listens, nods.
Peels the wrapper further down.
Bites, listens. Nods. Chews.

(lessons learned by listening to Blues Traveler)

You'll get no answer.
Alone (goes on forever).
Mountains always win.

(number 28)

Say what you mean, please.
No more caterpillar lies.
Unwrap them. Let fly.

(walking in public)

Men's eyes possess me.
Change my gait, shy, grow smaller.
Still they undress me.

(spring dropping)

Death swells the water.
Trash flows putrid-hot thru streets.
And flower petals.

(cliches taste better in haiku form)

Don't say that you can't.
Knock. Knock again. Try the knob.
Try another door.

(tire metaphors)

Rubber heart deflates.
Patches, plugs, inner linings.
Dealing with punctures.

(eight years old)

She is small, trying. 

A man sits in a lawn chair.

She tries to please him.

(stepping off the subway during rush hour)

Suitcase slams hard shins.
That trav'ler's a tyrant--  No.
Such weight. He's struggling.

(the painting above my bed)

Eye table nose chair. 

Red flower lips lie alone.

Green is the color. 

(late learning)

I ran so hard, then.
Hurt my legs, my lungs, it all.
No choice, now, but slow.

(you)

Yes, child, chaos reigns.
Still this boundless sky's contained.
See? You are the frame.

(the seeds that I am planting)

They will become-- Strong.
Bright. Lush. Green, ever-changing.
Lilies. Wildflowers.

(what it is to believe it)*

Unbearable weight.
She says, I am loved, she says.
Then sinking, then light.





*Thanks, Mae :)

(written on a pink post-it note in blue ballpoint pen)

A grocery list:
Yogurt. Hummus. Rice. An Orange.
Is the poetry.

(Spring. Night.)

Dark. Courage walking.
In warmth I'm invincible.
... A feeling, only.

(small things)

Burned hand-- cold water.
What if I had no faucet?
Today I'm grateful.

(we're in it together, even when we stink)

Bus brims with people.
Good: I wore deodorant.
Man beside: did not.

Sunday Seconds

Ink on my fingers.
Mud on my hands. Sweat, dripping.
I work. Struggle. Build.

April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month. On May 1, let's remember that it continues to happen

Memories evade.
He yelled, he hit, I was fear--
This, I remember.