Poetry

Cover Art Final

I published a book of poetry, Bright Needles.

 

GARMENTS

I wanted want

like a textile

thread woven

to thread colours

running down in

a pattern of

longing i wanted

want in a

desolate way

i couldn’t see the

changes in me

or you

the comfort of years

a sweater

the narrow vision of

expectation the

moths turning all

this fabric to tatters

 

SIRENA
the shallows sweep me up
in the tiny sea shells i lift
to hear a lie of an ocean
i dream of such magnitude
sky and sea lingering sun
beams; whales large enough
to swallow me until i can
learn to live honestly
without artifice, clinging
to my disguses barnicle
heavy, algae twining to
form long, long hair
just singing to call the
sailors home.

 

THE FRAME

i have run

like you

into the side of the ravine

dressed in scorched autumn leaves

falling facedown floating now

in the darkest river

i just don’t care now

i want to evaporate now

into the water cycle

where i belong now

every stretch of the canvas

left you imprisoned by the frame.

 

HELLO

The word a melody

My Bacchus

You drank

 

We sat beside the fire

Behind the house

You were explaining

The meaning of

My astrological sign

It was full of hope

And hope is what

Tumbled the kiss

Out of my mouth

Onto you

Intoxicating

I wanted everything

You said to be true

With you I could

Believe

 

Belief can make you

Reckless

Hope is an aphrodisiac

I never thought I’d

Fall so easily

I had always kept myself

safe from the elixir of

hormones in the darkness

but you made me

want to be something else

a girl who could just

lean into a boy

that smelled of fire,

marshmallow,  and wine

and taste his mouth

from the inside

 

SHE IS NOT ME
I feel like this is
Internal combustion
Spread thin as a
Wire.
One wing curved over
The other, the bird is
Sleeping.
This isn’t me- who
They say I am, who
I should be with this
Disease.
So ugly, the obsessive
Wish for a magazine thigh
While cutting into your own
Bones and flesh to become
A disappearing act.
I am the magician. I hold
The hat, the wand, that
Red velvet cape. I am
Aware of the precise moment
I need to fold myself
Into an origami girl.
That is the difference,
Maybe.
I am aware.

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