Day 7- Take a walk until you find a tree you identify with, then write a poem using the tree as a metaphor for yourself or your life. To the stump in my garden that has begun to sprout Mere days after its branches have been shorn: Teach me whatever lessons you have learned How to give thanks for your still solid roots And how to recalibrate the hardened fibres of your bark And make life once more.
Tensions
–> I am beginning to name my knots. Let one in my neck be Wanting from every time I clenched my jaw after breathing in her scent. Let the tightness in my shoulder be Disappointment who is also called Shame a product of still wanting him to touch me even though we both know he shouldn’t and being caught between recoiling and not. Finally, the chronic ache in my back will be Distance from consistently loving people that are too far away. In the same way one muscle contracts as the other relaxes these pains are interconnected and I know…
Going With The Tides
Going With The Tides A Haiku Pair Loneliness sometimes lingers like cold in your bones and damp in your soul, even when the tides that washed it up have long since moved to other shores.
On the Distribution of One’s Heart
On the Distribution of One’s Heart (A Haiku Quintet) I had given my heart to someone who didn’t know how to hold it. Instead, they cradled it like an adolescent with a stranger’s child: awkward and uneasy, with a fear of falling head first and snapping. I gave my heart to someone who didn’t quite want it and was surprised when they gave it back. They said to keep it safe, but their fingers left bruises.
Chennette
I was born like a chennette: My green mother- sliced open down the middle, And me- squeezed out. Pink, sticky, sour.
Drowning
Drowning (A Haiku Pair) I am drowning. You have oversaturated me, but I need it. You overwhelm me. I gasp for air but choking never felt so good.
Coming Out
I read that we never get to stop coming out. Well I came out to myself the other day, Stepped out of my glass closet for a moment, Well, not so much a class closet than one of those Cabinets old people use to store their china I am transparent, the way I hoard your gifts, Your presents, your presence. I never tell the ones who need to hear it the most. Instead I let it rest on my lips the way I wish yours would And flitter round my tongue the way I want yours to, But I can’t….
Sea Shanty
I wrote this on the offhanded request of a friend. She said that her OTP (One True Pairing), was sand and salt water. And I take inspiration where ever I can get it. Sea Shanty You are the salt of my earth, Said the tide to the shore. Leaving sweet nothings In pools filled with stars As the moon’s siren song Pulled them further apart. Palm trees with their heads buried in the clouds promised he’d return, You could hear it in the crashes of the waves. But every time you leave, You wear me away, The shore whispered back.
An Education
I want to learn the language your body speaks, Whispered by your hips as you move, Decode the ciphers between your sighs. I have learned the angle of your slouch, The spread of your fingers And the coil of your curls. There is a science to you I have not yet learned. I have learned the contours of your face The locations of your moles The longitude and latitude of your dimples The length and breadth of your smile Better than I ever learned geography. Maybe I’d map those contours of your face (Which I’ve already committed to memory) but…
Death Throes
Morbid fascination kills me again and again. These are the death throes Of our potential. This is the not the martyrdom I try to tell myself it is. It is assisted suicide. Nor is it the first time- Reincarnation ad nauseam, Same me, different yous- Till nirvana: A state I cannot reach. It sickens me, The way I crave Your attentions. Like Tantalus I thirst And am never satisfied. You bloom perpetual While I fade like echoes. Jeweled fruit that fall From your lips Into my ears Sweet fruit, biting aftertaste, Like soured wine to the dying man, Leaves me…