lost last night’s gold after the Adriatico’s pizza
guy gave us a tip: wait
for me to leave
strummed strings past afternoon stairs
mozzarella between our teeth hands on hips
lips and tongue
I was your favorite human for one night out of a billion
you said and said kept me a dice roll away my bedroom just
a flick of your fingers
(originally published in 8 Poems, Fall 2019)
Fuck fake corporate holidays–
ok, I said it.
our hearts fighting capitalism
but the system says February 14
is the best day to say you love
your person, to shower them
in candy and chocolate until
they can taste no more sweet.
our first Valentine and I miss you
terribly in these long hours
we spend at places we’re paid
to spend our lives in to survive
and what else would we spend
on but sweets?
In the past,
I’ve wanted to take a baseball bat to
Valentine Day’s piñata and smash
out all its greed–
this year, though,
you are my Valentine, and every day
I spend with you already I want to bury you
in a mountain of CVS candy and chocolate,
hold you close to me and whisper
I love you, I love you, I love you–
ok, today’s a good excuse.
(Originally published in Magnolia Review, Summer 2018)
pink cube of lukewarm touch
crumbs a trail to what end
these futuristic forever years
consume each day
(originally published in #theslideshow, Winter 2018)
Often I find myself wanting to move
from the dust like a lost, small dog,
fur a summertime shackle.
Those dark winter days
we were our own light.
Lapped the water in from a trough.
We didn’t have to dip (not deeply)
and we’d share our sips freely.
Then Valentine’s Day
came and went.
Meanwhile we sat alone
at our computers,
waiting to press send.
(originally published in The Legendary)
when the twine grays, know
there is still a lettering
shaped in your glossed spiral.
I gargle Listerine your name
to the thrum of the galaxy
lodged in my throat,
behind my wolf teeth,
a song alongside you.
(originally published in Revolution John)
Claustrophobia is vodka
and the girl who craves my touch
in the parched
desert: how we swivel & entwine
in quiet moments when the world
is reduced to synchronous slow breathing,
along kisses and fingers bare and velvet,
cactus-quiet sleep descends
praying we have hope
(originally published in The Release Magazine, February 2015)