Monday, January 11, 2016

under water

under water
you look the same as you do in bed
your hair fanned out
like it is over the multiple pillows you insist are necessary
your eyes half closed in a bliss all your own
a lazy smile on your face
your arms and legs undulating like a mythical sea creature of temptation
your slow-motion blinks of perfection
the crook of your arm
home to the children you've birthed
under water
you move with an unparalleled grace to an unheard symphony

under water
i can't breathe

Friday, January 8, 2016


i revert to many
one would be too much
you know
almost nothing
of me
seems to be
so simple
so known
so implicitly understood
it is painful
to be
so silent
so far away
as i imagine
it would be
with words
so close

Wednesday, January 6, 2016


atop the mountain
of bones
and books
i collect
and sun-splotched dreams
i weave
new stories
of these
old threads
to carry
above the smoke and ashes

Tuesday, January 5, 2016

a letter to my grandmother

the others have left you
but you have left others
who will never leave you
but will leave each other
this perpetual cycle
and comforting
what is left
to those left
to give