sacrifice summed up
in a hundred teens’ letters
breaks my heart each year
my first orgasm
given to a boy now dead
life’s too fucking short
my childhood park
lit under a cloudy moon
is what calms me down
i’d walk the world
to find my way back to you
eighteen years in, love
we’re all grown up now
me a woman, you a man
let’s let bygones… be
there’s no other moon
to shine city-bright tonight
just my love, your love
she wants an answer
and i want a solution:
not an easy mix
i stare at Wash Park
paddles, crayfish everywhere
and think of that day
when we were problems
we were each other’s problems
and that was okay
she’d never been there
and we pedaled that huge bike
each one disabled
we ate what we ate
we chewed what we chewed: bitter
yet: so fucking sweet
and why i hate now:
because i have everything
(nothing without her)
money doesn’t buy
that once-in-a-lifetime love
trapped inside boxes
so what’s my answer?
there’s no easy solution
to a broken heart
but let us fix it
pedal away from Wash Park
be wholly ourselves
published now for all:
our dream come true in a home
we’ll all find space in
joy in small moments
imaginary play land
in parks, museums
first one we looked at
offer in my back pocket
when you know, you know
just like way back when
looking into his blue eyes
when you know, you know
some dreams take too long
too many tries, money wasted
but now i know… i know
had me at hardwood
hard-earned years, so many jobs
i hardly know you, love
but soon you’ll be ours
no renovation, like new
somehow i just knew
last days of summer
mini-golfing with grandma
home before the rain
with windows wide: write.
because you’ve missed my poems, love.
since yesterday’s dawn
girls in sun’s shadow
as she announces her move.
life: cycle in, out.
you know you’ve missed me
my “seven-likes” followers
’cause i didn’t write
you count me daily
amongst the regular loves
that make us a life
and i was just born.
(it was like i was just born
the day i met him)
’cause seventeen years
can’t be measured in mountains
or wildflowers
or whining children.
but in the steps we oft take
on our way back home
and in sunsets. Sun!
lighting my way across love
across city, life.
cutting down this ‘hood
into what it’s meant to be:
scraped, demolished, lost.
circular i am
because that’s how tires spin:
neverending globe
that brings us back home
wherever that home may be.
anywhere but here.
he comes home with clouds
hovering over new joy
(where we could be free)
but then i must ask:
is freedom found in money?
so hard to answer
those without know best:
lack of money’s a prison
choking month to month
those with all know best:
too much money is a trap
biting claws of greed
it was just enough
for shoes, road trips, water parks
just enough to breathe
i want that freedom–
monthly-cycle jail-cell break
so far from the clouds
early morning ride
in search of a springform pan
obstacles block route
stores aren’t convenient
when his birthday’s tomorrow
and i just can’t wait
twenty-four miles
transforms fast to thirty-two
in mid-morning heat
Google, phone fail me
i meander through suburbs
Google, phone save me
prairie dog hit/run
lost glove, quick tea/chocolate swigs
breathless arrival
cold shower, dentist
girls busy with chores, reading
in the name of love
but i got the pan
for the best cheesecake ever
for the man i love
Step Write Up 