'12

(Just a little reflective piece)

It was the year of clay underneath my fingernails. The year of handwritten goodbyes, the year of alcohol, of gazebos, of blue-eyed angels in trench coats, of chartreuse cardigans and lemon water. The year of peppermint tea at two in the morning, poinsettias that made me cry, of bedside lamp sonatas. The year of stubborn Chinese food, pizza box jokes and carpeted misogyny. The year of words, of nostalgia, of letters to Chicago and breakfast beignets in New Orleans. The year of endings but also of many beginnings.

Savage

She said you wanted to wrap the moon in a tortilla and I might have agreed if I believed in Mexican food. You told me it tasted like room temperature. Or like the coldness from behind the sun. No, I cannot see the sun from behind my rose-tinted glasses, but they’re the only ones I own. Dollar store hookers propose I join them for coffee after their shifts but I say no, the bitter beans of java never felt good to my tongue. But they wanted to philosophize. Kierkegaard never had as many fifties as the men in the station wagons lined up for their drive-through happy meals. I cannot help but stare at the coldness of your collarbone. It turns away with you behind it.

Babylon

the swollen dancing
like
sweat     dances
slick, baby
pushing palms to flesh to
the fantastic bright dark
wave surging electric
pulses
plug me in      to it the
circuit    might probably     might
burn up/   burn us.
your body was meant
to conduct electricity.

forgiveness

Words build character

and I am a novel.

I cross-checked the Jesus cross

but it was made of countertop formica

and the children

no, the family pets

prayed to it anyway

the pile of firewood

looked like a child in prayer

I could hear the sound

of celestial joints snapping

it sounded like

forgiveness.

[The day we met]

The day we met

I was trying to

forget the love

I had left

almost 5 years

the day before

but still couldn’t

let go of.

You didn’t/

still don’t

know I was

ready to make

a mistake

I wouldn’t regret

but

you told me

about your

ex-boyfriend

and instead

I asked

if you had ever met him.

1693

At 15,000 feet I get reflective.

There’s a wildfire outside my cabin window

Should I tell the captain?

The stewardess just said my seat can be used as a flotation device.

I wonder what it would like

to float on the Mississippi River

with my seat as my savior.

The Indian woman peels a Clementine to eat with her curry.

She’s watching a video on care of exotic birds

and I can’t help but think she’s a stereotype

and wonder if she knows it as well.

Outside the winding snakes of progress weave stitches through flatlands.

                                                                  If I fell

                                                                       would you catch me?