Lilly asks as we leave
the Highland Park pool
do you need
a dinosaur figurine?
I look at the lost
and found table
she points to, and
I make mental dots
for sprawling trinkets
that must have meant
something to someone,
once, trying to determine
what she means by dinosaur–
is it the green color shining
off plastic rings? The fake
bird feathers? She points
again and this time I follow
to a rubber Tyrannosaur, no
ambiguity, Yes, my cat died
this morning. Yes, right after
the break-up. Because I fit what
doesn’t make sense into butterflies,
love, and the stillness around me.
You ask, can you envision
our future together? I see it
in our palms: a tree with a million
branches, and on the other
hand, a tree with a billion
branches, and on another,
a tree full of open hands.
(originally published in Dandelion Scribes, Spring 2025)
toy
Fidget Spinner
Place the ring around your finger.
Let it spin. Pretend, for once,
that something can attain
perpetual motion. You drive back-
country roads to leave a life behind
yet miss the destined exit. Consider
the spin of the Earth, the galaxy,
the universe. At what point does
longing end? There are always
voids to fill, vast pits of fruit
you would savor if you could
stay still enough to love
a person.
(originally published in Cabildo Quarterly, Fall 2017)
Ouija Board
we’re summoning the dead by candlelight out of a Hasbro board
and there are so many ghosts in my head haunting every home
I find myself in so much history in every intimate space of belonging
but the cat doesn’t have to meow after we ask a spirit to reveal itself to make
us scared there’s a bat hanging on your door and we fall asleep holding hands
I never know what to make of you, how to call something beautiful
and I don’t think to ask the Ouija board that instead asking stupid questions like
will we ever grow tall enough to dunk a basketball and will we pass history class
instead of saying things like reveal yourself and show me who you really are
but maybe we were never really searching for spirits to begin with maybe
we just want any warm body to haunt our beds you don’t even have to say anything
to let me know we give thanks to all the ghosts that haunt us
(originally published in Here Comes Everyone, Spring 2017)
