People ask you to make an
idea out of something you do
and they say it so casually
you don’t get what it is
they are asking for.
(originally published in children, churches, and daddies, Winter 2023)
Kissing Kermit
I ask when kissing
our cat does this
make you jealous?
Not because it is
my mission. Today
marks shedding
season the first
day of spring.
Dry lips coated
with fur because
winter was long
and tomorrow
we will be new.
(originally published in DoubleSpeak Magazine, Summer 2023)
After the Zoo
the offense was claws in which I tore
the seams of treaded jeans we admired
of hornbills suspended in the space
between freedom and constriction
and contrails the zest of the situation
lingered in halves the happening and aftermath
a baptismal drizzle of your departing hatchback
entirely left to the discretion of satellites
(originally published in Academy of the Heart and Mind, Spring 2023)
2008 Fragment (College)
There is a picture of you standing
in a blue IKEA bag in the chapter
room because we wanted to find God,
me and Jack and Chris. That led us
to IKEA in Robinson, Pennsylvania
and I knew not to fall asleep
in your car but I did anyway. We
were toying with the brand new
Garmin. We knew the route it wanted
us to take was not the best but
we took it anyway because technology.
I wasn’t the one who was going to tell
the lady who locked us in the parking
garage we got stuck in that we needed
to be let out. You did, and I have the
picture in my memory of you telling
her. I wish I remembered the words.
(originally published in *82 Review, Fall 2022)
Fall Guys
gonna be a good dive
pink windmills spin forever
I thanked you already
I am always thanking you
consider this next apology all ready
dizzy heights
I’ll file in the hi Sara folder
maybe I will choose to drop
down to blue under-surface
where everyone’s at I miss that
you mean I’m supposed to grab a tail
with these conveyor belts & keep it
I don’t know my role
but the walls
have googly eyes & I don’t mean
the stampede at the checkered line
these same damn races every time
I’ve never watched the procession after me
don’t worry you haven’t done anything wrong
yet
the situation’s complicated
continue
(originally published in One, Fall 2022)
Milgate Bathroom
When you can’t leave for the forest–
bloomed flower petals on white tile
by the toilet rug. Black comb bleach
cleaner. A tendril reaches from water
glass, vine lights looming. What for
but pale wall? Crystal window. Self-
haircut grass. Small room. Small
ambition. I track my movements.
My hunter is somewhere, hiding.
(originally published in Sybil Journal, Summer 2023)
You’ll Know Me Always by the Red Door
you said the first time I picked you up
on our way to a family-style dinner &
then we drove through curvy hills I am
not yet comfortable with, the darkness
now so fitting.
I came empty-
handed, I didn’t want to drink
too much then drive you home. &
we didn’t know anyone who’d be
at our table but you’re better with
strangers. The restaurant was on
a corner facing a bus stop, &
people watched as I drove doughnuts
around the dual-railroad tracks
adjacent, seeking a place to park
not marked by sign or road decay.
I wanted to talk to you more
about anything, but you opened
my driver door
& walked me in.
(originally published in Words & Whispers, Winter 2023)
Now That You Are Engaged
I refuse to believe
a word you told me. We talked home
movies by your bedside lamp
and shared a feather pillow.
Don’t talk to me about the fate
of birds when morning comes and all
I hear is silence. Then I listen a
little longer and hear your soft breathing
I know you’re faking. You don’t sleep,
I didn’t either. The absinthe on your
breath meant we lived long enough
to forget another night. How could
we forget a lesson like that?
(originally published in Sweet Tree Review, Winter 2023)
Whims
I am attracted to power
the sun is a battery and I bask
in a ruse of energy or chemistry
in my worn-torn pajamas
and constant wanting
to leave the house
to see some birds
with a warmer destination
in mind or casually
run into an old friend
and we will ask how
the other is doing
for a total of five seconds
before moving further
into our respective drifts
of time forgetting
the tentative pizza plans
we had just talked about
forgetting the ice cold
air around us that rises
up and only gets colder
and I am lifted too
arms first
until I latch onto
the wings of a plane
which knows where
it shall go and
my whole life
has been like that
following the whims
of whatever
carries me
further
(originally published in CultureCult POWERLESS Anthology. Fall 2024)
Grays
The word just past
your grasp is deaden,
as in: I can’t believe
I’ve been at this job
for five years now.
Still, I wish I had
the fortitude
to last forever
without ominousness–
no heat death if you stare
out into infinity. No
loved ones dying
their hair black
in old age.
(originally published in DREICH, Fall 2023)