things we didn’t say.
She called to say the operation was postponed,
your heavy eyelids and shaky hands will have to wait.
“I carry my tension in the space between my toes.”
“What do you mean?” “Never mind.”
February was a good month this time
(not like the other ones we can’t remember),
and the spring caught us by surprise,
but in May the operation was postponed
(so we hold our breath and gasp for air).
I thought you’d gone to bed early,
so my feet treaded softly on the floor
but the bookcase jumped out of nowhere
marking my arm with the ugliest remnants of sunsets.
“You’re old enough to know better.
What you love always leaves,
what you create you have to feed.”
But in May the operation was postponed.
Dancing Lessons
My bed is cold like winter when you leave.
I hate winter and all that it brings:
Reds and greens and Christmas trees.
New years that never start off well
And a list of things to do that is always forgotten,
Or at least overlooked – I feel overlooked
Until you crawl back into this small space again,
Whispering things about me that no one else thinks.
Until you let me hold your hands in mine and
Explore the layers of your fingertips
Inhaling every texture you have ever touched.
Revisiting every place you have ever been—
Where do you go when you are not here?
Sometimes at night, when I can’t find you,
I become afraid that you’ve finally disappeared.
I think of all I have left to learn from you.
I remember the night we first fought and how I stood
Watching you slowly dance out of the bar.
Switching partners every few steps. First the counter ledge,
Seducing the back of a chair, greedily groping the wall until
You were out the door and falling hard for the concrete.
I stroked your hair while you were sick on the kitchen floor.
And the look that flashed in your eyes after you threw the glass
That shattered against the wall just inches from my head,
That look still haunts me at night in my bad dreams in my
Cold, empty bed where I need you to come and make
Me feel seen again for who I will never really be.
(a list of things which may or may not be connected.)
1.
Nervous like your father’s hands
The first time he held you
Shocked that such fragility could be his.
You’re disappearing up the rocks
(I should get some rest).
2.
“I love you more.”
No, you don’t. There is a fine line between
Love and need.
3.
Morning barrels in with
Cascading light that spreads
Vicious rays across the bed in which
I never sleep. The sun is like a
Jealous lover, desperate for the side of
Us she’ll never get to know.
4.
Believe me, it was not my intention
To be anything to anyone, ever.
5.
Your mother called. She asked if
You were still bony, sickly, broken thin.
Everyone knows i am not a good liar.
6.
I have never loved anything and
I certainly don’t intend to start with you.
But you have such a pretty voice when you sing.
7.
January was a bad month.
I’d rather not discuss it.
anthems of a seventeen year old girl (revised)
cold air reminds me of you:
hair falling loose in front of
root beer brown eyes that began
to burn whiskey gold with age
(like a curtain fall in the
middle of the second act).
cocaine white teeth backlit by
all of those stupid nosebleeds.
seventeen and searching hard:
a time when i was boring
and you hated everything
and the night was where we hid:
late night phone calls with your voice
too quite, low, and fast to
decipher, like a stampede
of ants across a hardwood
floor at four in the morning.
— four in the morning and your
parents are asleep in the
next room and the blanket feels
like the soft fur of my child-
hood cat (he died last summer).
i should be home and asleep,
(but i somehow lost sleep on
the night that we met and i
never could find her again).
when we kiss your mouth tastes of
cheap tobacco, mine tastes of
caution and the secrets i
know to always keep from you.
your hands are hot on my skin
as they wander, waiting to
hear me say “no” and i do.
you tell me you love me and
i say i have to leave and
rise fast out of the bed
pausing still like a scared stone
greek statue. you stare at me
and your eyes are an eager
crowd watching me run out the
door without saying a word.
next i am tiptoeing up
the stairs to my parent’s house.
the morning sun is a gross
blend of purples and golds like
a toddlers smushed, and ugly
finger painting. we call it
beautiful even though it
isn’t. the light crawls slow, drunk
and desperate across my
bedroom floor threatening to
shed light on all of every-
thing, but mostly just keeping
me from the safe arms of sleep.
deutoronomy 6:5
Sometimes, I forget that God is real
And that he is alive on his throne in his castle in the sky.
Surely, we were not an accident. This was all planned.
We will be prospered, not destroyed.
Even the hairs on our head are numbered by God.
(who I believe is real)
So, we must act accordingly:
HailMarySevenTimes. SingHallelujah. CrossMyHeartAndHopeToDie.
NoCrossiesCount. (NONE, NOT EVER).
ForeverAndEverAmen.
Sometimes, I look at you and I remember
That God is real. Not to you, but he is to me.
I should pray for you and tell God what he already knows.
Like how you aren’t happy & he will weep for you on his big throne
Inside of his big castle in the sky. It is paradise seated on a bed of clouds.
In a place that is only good & no pain is felt, But don’t worry:
(he weeps for you).
God knows someone messed up somewhere,
Because you were promised the best, and somehow didn’t get it.
And he won’t fix it, but surely he will weep.
If I didn’t know God was real I would make you
my God instead of the idol I worship
(Love thy neighbor, but FIRST, Love thy God).
Because there is no one greater than who you are when
somebody needs you and God knows I need you
Like I should need my God. Like I should love my God.
I told God I needed to be alone, but we weren’t made to be alone.
God created man and then woman.
And only then he said, “It is good”
Do you feel Good? I don’t.
God calls us his children, but I always feel like an orphan.
I think you do, too. Where is home?
Is it in that castle in the sky? Do we dine with the king?
Because the cock hasn’t crowed and I’ve denied him more than thrice
And surely by now I am doomed to forever roam like
the lost child I am
Wandering earth, Hailing Mary
And cursing the God I believe in.
anthems of a seventeen year old girl.
and i am seventeen again. lying on your bedroom floor and it is late. too late to be awake. the movie is over and your parents are asleep. mine are asleep too, but they are not here. your fingers are laced in mine and you are whispering into my ear “what people don’t know can’t hurt them”. you seem sure of this. me, i’m not so sure and i tell you this, but you really want me to believe. i think for a second i could believe anything you say, but instead of telling you this i am suddenly running up the stairs of my parent’s house with most of me still in tact.
every mother knows that the good boys are boring. they tell you that they aren’t, but mother’s know the truth. a good boy won’t hurt you. he won’t take anything that isn’t his. but he won’t teach you anything either. he’ll never show you what a small suburban town looks like at three in the morning when everyone is asleep. he won’t teach you how to drink whiskey without grimacing or inhale smoke without coughing. he won’t leave you weeping through the night wondering how you could have done nothing, but still have done something wrong. a good boy will leave you whole. but how can you say you have lived if you make it through life still whole?
landing.
I press my forehead to the glass
Staring without blinking
Everything outside appears in boxes
Boxes of green next to boxes of gray
Connected by lines of black
Time’s slow pace traps me inside with
A racing heart and held breath
Intestines flipping like Olympic gymnasts
Clenched fists pushing nails into palms
And overwhelming silence
Until with a violent shake
An unexpected beep
A raspy voice
A slight drop
And finally…
untitled
Sometimes,
I forget God is real.
That he is alive in
A big castle that
Sits on a lofty bed of clouds
Up in the sky.
I forget that this wasn’t all
Just some series of accidents
That we aren’t all just victims
Left to pay the consequences of another’s mistakes.
That I’m not just stuck in a place I never asked to go,
Because God is real and we must
Act accordingly:
Hail Mary Seven times,
Sing Hallelujah,
Cross my heart and hope to die.
Forever and ever amen.
No crossies count, none, not ever.
Sometimes, when I look at you
I remember you never say anything
At least anything that you are actually thinking.
You just mutter things to fill the space
To make the people around you feel like you are happy.
I certainly don’t think that you think that you are happy.
God knows you aren’t happy
(because God is real).
He weeps for you from his big throne
Inside of his big castle in the sky
It is paradise seated on a bed of clouds
In a place that is only good & no pain is felt,
But don’t worry,
God still weeps for you.
He knows someone messed up somewhere
Because he promised you the best of everything
And somehow you didn’t get the best
And he won’t fix it, but surely he will weep.
God is lucky you don’t hold grudges
He is lucky he made you to love everyone,
Despite everything. Forgive your brothers always.
Love thy neighbor, but first
Love thy God.
Forever and ever amen.
I love who you are to me
And to everyone around you
Like I should love my God
(That I believe in because he is real)
because I believe there is no one greater than who you are
when somebody needs you.
God knows I need you.
You don’t know I need you.
But God does
And I do.
I wonder if you want to be anything to anyone,
Especially needed.
Does anyone want to be anything at all?
You said you feel better when you are alone
And I suppose that is mostly what you want to be
But I also think you know that is a lie
Man wasn’t made to be alone. God created man and then woman
And only then he said “it is good”
Do you feel good? I don’t.
God calls us his children, but
I always feel like an orphan.
I think you do too, but I don’t think we will forever.
Does that happen to us all at some point?
Do we some day just find home?
Is home found in a big castle in the sky?
With a white bearded man who sits on a throne?
If that is home then I am doomed
To forever roam like the lost child I am
Wandering the earth, Hailing Mary
And cursing the God I believe in.
i have never been to savannah.
savannah, georgia is a long long way from home
& there is nothing left in me to keep you here
any more.
we are both somewhere we never asked to go
& i can’t keep expecting anyone to stay.
in fact,
last night, while everyone was asleep
i packed up all of my things thinking
it was finally time to leave.
the sun started coming up
& the cat looked up at me
only half awake though
so i tore up my note
deciding to just go back to bed.
september.
september, september
where did you come from?
you caught me by surprise
arriving out of nowhere
rising up within the trees
and their leaves that burn red
preparing to fall away
bringing promise of a fresh start.
how we need a fresh start
now more than ever
we are desperate for our branches to be bare
holding no signs of our past trespasses
bringing forth no remnants of our failures
autumn come and cleanse us
lead us into the cold of winter
so that the perfect spring
can come and revive us
again and again
year after year
we are desperate for our branches
to become bare
so that we may start again
september september
you caught me by surprise
but won’t you come and save me again?
