It is too much for a person
to unpack happenings
in the space of a day.
Yet each of us do it
invariably independent
of everyone else.
Deep breath.
Look–
(originally published in The Magnolia Review, Summer 2020)
present
Thirty (and a Half)
I ate five scoops of Breyers chocolate-peanut butter
ice cream and still want more–
this, after two “meals” of beef-
flavored nothing noodles (Maruchan ramen)
I’m thirty (and a half)
When do I stop running
from “the good future”
I see it through the
crystal balls of rich kids’ Instagrams
Say it with me:
I AM LIVING IN THE PAST.
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I WANT WHAT YOU HAVE.
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But here’s the thing.
Earth spins so much it’s dizzying.
I’m running the opposite direction
to meet my past self but that fucker
doesn’t want to rendezvous.
The future called
and told me to put the phone down, you’re
sweating arsenic
and They were right. I needed
a shower to cleanse myself of everything
before the neighbors made a stink about my stench.
(originally published in SCAB Magazine, Summer 2020)
The Christmases That Were Forever
my own advice: treat every gift
like you’re nine in ninety-seven.
rip the heart out of your parents’
wrapping jobs. don’t notice
the hanging phone calls,
the coils of collection,
the foggy snarls at the door,
the stay-in-bed allure radiating
from big, red boxes hidden
behind the couch for after
we opened all the other presents,
for after we grew up,
after we got jobs.
(originally published in The Drunken Llama, Fall 2017)
A Karaoke Machine for Your Birthday
the songbook is full
of songs left to sing
we didn’t wait long to end
the song present in the now
unwrapped from the box
where we sang tenuous tones
(originally published in The Piedmont Journal of Poetry and Fiction, Winter 2017)
To Mandy (from Cece)
When in view I know I launch like a rocket toward you
but you are my favorite scent in the universe
I watch stars when sprinting through open fields
my neck beaming orange from my electric collar
you have given me many such gifts
but nothing can replicate your hand on my fur
you know I don’t need to shake my butt when I walk
I’m only playing but it is funny when you mimic my moves
& we have so many years & so few
and every day is so new I can’t bear to learn
the name of another dog or tree because everything is beautiful
& holy & profound in the way you let me roam free the times
I only need to go outside to pee & look, everything’s so gorgeous
I can’t bear to sit still & yet will return to you when you call my name
(originally published in Perspectives Magazine, Spring 2017)