Monday, April 28, 2014

in my dreams i am missing teeth, i am clenching my jaw so tight that they 
loosen, pop out and clatter onto the floor. in my dreams i press my bones, squeeze, and they
cede, shatter, disconnect like legos.
in my dreams the damage i do to myself is immediate and visible and acceptable and i am
naked in front of a group of people,
holding my broken body parts (my teeth clenched in my fist like loose change) and
there are puppies everywhere and i am clothed and they are licking my face and
looking at me with that expression (half apology/half pity) and whispering,
"well, what did you expect?" 
and now my old babysitter is straddling my mouth and no one seems to care that i am
unclothed, vulnerable, missing vital parts of myself-

and suddenly i am in a familiar room
and it is morning
and her alarm is sounding,
i touch my lips to make sure that i am whole,
avoid hard food for the rest of the day.

Sunday, April 27, 2014

this winter grounded me, froze like wet shoes to
smoking steel, like a warm angry tongue to
cold sheets. this winter grounded me like a disorientated 
goose, two fields behind and wondering when
everyone else was going to catch up.

the thaw started inside myself, the thaw started breaking my glaciers and
setting tiny chunks of me 
into the sea. my gears are groaning back to life, 
the sun
is more than something we talked about
on a crying Tuesday night, sitting and staring, wondering
when the other was going to catch up. 

frozen, thawed, back in flight,
the sun is more than something we talked about
in our sleep.

Thursday, April 24, 2014

day 1

you wipe eyelashes from my face when i wake up,
blow them into the wind
like dandelions or asteroids.

i remember that our first kiss felt like the big bang,

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

i felt my pulse rise to your hand like the 
tide to the moon.
breathing, a tiny bed, an indiscriminate hour in the 
early morning. 
the feeling of melding, bonding, like some invisible web was
being spun from me to you,
you to me.
pinpoint the exact moment i changed you, nudged my way into your heart and settled like a
cat in the sun, decide if you'd ever
go back and do it differently-
i wouldn't

warm towels from the dryer, the skin on your hip sweet with sweat-
i thought to myself that there are worse things to be than

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

i think you've gotten taller, now, 
i completely accept the impossibility of this feat, i grasp
the limitations of a calcium frame (a porcelain skeleton). i think your eyes have
gotten deeper, nestled further into their bed of autumn leaves, i think
my face has collected lines like coffee table scratches (both our mugs after Saturday morning eggs).
everything moves, consistently inconsistent, now, 
who says that we can't
free fall next to each other.
we are spinning madly, 
always in the same direction-
i can't do this alone, i can't do this alone.

Monday, April 14, 2014

the constant anxiety vomit, 
leaving something gravel in your throat,
the grit of regret.
blinking the doom from your eyes and swallowing-
licking your wounds like a cat and hacking,
the grit of emptiness.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

if you love something, press it against your mouth like a pillow-

i get very angry and i swallow it dry, on an empty stomach
like vomit or 6 advil.
i wish i had razor claws, i wish i had knife teeth,
i wish that i didn't rip my enemies apart only to have
three more spring up in their absence.
 i wish i was cruel and selfish and engulfing.

i am pinning it down,
i am swimming in it's smell.
i am swallowing my anger and pressing it against my mouth like a pillow-
arms fall limp against the comforter;
i am okay for today
i am okay.

Sunday, April 6, 2014

do you ever look at your wine glasses, touch their paper thin rims, think 
to yourself: "i am definitely 
going to drop this one day, it will break
and no longer be so beautiful"

do you ever look
at your life that way?