May
Tag: Verse
disquiet
you scrape leftovers from glass containers the same way I scrape desire from between my legs in the same can, we throw these perfectly good things away
headless mode
Lost sight of the road, eyelids falling two curtains to keep the sick & coughing patients from touching my soul. I nearly destroyed a little old man with the opening of the ambulance door. Even under the first-responder’s glare, I didn’t know what was happening. After that, my partner banned me from the driver’s seat. […]
state of being
I don’t want to talk about politics, about how they move money around like toys kicked across the floor, back and forth I don’t want to listen about what’s happening beyond your five windows and single door cases confirmed in our county now and what does that mean for us, on the ambulance what do […]
Just Thoughts
Caitie, can we talk please? about cutting heart strings propagating them in soil how fast does loneliness grow and when it does, what is it good for? . Sophia, can’t you just listen? why does it always start in the kitchen so deep and full I don’t even notice hot water kissing burns into my […]
Things I left with you
On the stovetop, a half eaten blueberry pie from one of our nightly Meijer runs. Leftover fries and half a burger (probably spoiled now) in the fridge (you know, the ones from the Irish pub where you didn’t order a drop of alcohol, told me you haven’t felt anything since you stopped drinking, and I […]
Biology Exam I // Sunday
some day is different from someday. I don’t know how. Both are just as abstract, deferring responsibility . I will do better tomorrow I will love you better some day, someday when I no longer want to . I did not cram for my biology exam thoughts escaped me like particles through protein channels, passive […]
when you don’t want her
fragile after I miss you terribly rusting wedding bands a cold bed ink that never dries and after— issuing commands between pills makes estrangement heroism; I wrote you a letter every day even so, you remained with her, an ocean away
Pilgrims
were on the shades when I left this morning, the bitter cold biting my cheeks. Threw my voice in the wind prayed it wouldn’t come back until you come . back. They were on the shades when I left, blots of ink on white plastic peering through the slats at all the bodies I’ve collected […]
searchlight
Maybe if I write these words slowly, it will make them hurt less. I can’t remember what I wrote yesterday, but it had that dizzying effect that swings sometimes have: nauseating, like maybe I should have kept my feet planted on the ground. But I have always loved the idea of flying, and being on […]
