If I were to leave my body behind for the night, I wouldn’t go far. I would hover; wrap her in company. If the pain stayed with sinew, I would sing songs, full-bodied. I would float in them; fight to memorize. Maybe she would remember in the morning. If the pain stayed with me, I would still fold close. I would look at her resting, … Continue reading 100 / for the night
A poem cannot be a pigeon. It cannot be the wattled beak that cracks the stale bread, it cannot be the craning neck that whips the air. It cannot be the tail or toenail, crop, shield, or eye. Certainly not the watchful eye. A poem cannot see the stranger, in ultraviolet glory, take crumbs out of their pocket and shed feast over the small hungry … Continue reading a poem cannot be a pigeon.
The Sun is singing in a staircase, somewhere. In the alley outside my apartment, rain is playing Moonlight Sonata inside an abandoned glass vase; every splash, a note that echoes. My mind is building fireslime to seep myself in, despite best efforts. I slice the tomatoes for simmer anyway, and the rice pours into the pot with a soft and soothing shhh. Shhh, shh, it … Continue reading 14
Jumping off point provided by Monday Meme Prompts via CamiSarahPoetry on Instagram. Based on a tumblr post from GiveMeArmsToPrayWith that reads, “every day I wakeup and drink my silly little coffee while God eats my heart like a pomegranate in front of me” Every day I wake up and stretch a silly little stretch. I like to pretend my joints will get on just fine … Continue reading every day i wake up
(Title after a poem by James Wright, “Today I Was Happy So I Made This Poem”) Today I was happy so I ran a brush through my hair one hundred times. The grip of the comb a gratitude itself, look how I clutch, look how I hold, look how I care for myself. Today I was happy so I gathered one hundred children and told … Continue reading Today I was happy, so I made this post.
Grief is light, I tell myself in the middle of another sleepless night. Sometimes I try to keep myself grounded but it is impossible when you hold so much light, when you are so much lighter than air, so much lighter than light. I think I could float away. I think I could be a star– just look how my name has collapsed into a … Continue reading grief is
Climb out of the Pacific Ocean, where fake islands crown a shore, and a dead boat floats bloated in the distance. Walk four blocks away from the waves. Ask any of my nieces. They’ll open their hands, read their palms, find me in a wrinkle that roots to their heart lines. Blindfold my mother and tell her I am hungry. Fill her hands with parathas … Continue reading 100 . five directions to me
Today, my color is blue like the part of the flame that knows how to stay, like the mirror glint shaken off the magpie’s shoulders to refill to the sun. Bursted plum-blue like the rough-kissed feet of a ballerina as she glides and bends in a smock of white feather and perfect stretch. You could miss it if you weren’t looking, just like a miracle, … Continue reading looking up