exercise

Catch Me a Moon

/ lovizmytrio / 1 Comment

catch me a moon once meant
fix my broken heart
(at sixteen, when in pieces
my heart’s only remedy were
the silver splashes of light)

catch me a moon now means
give me a moment
(a moment to myself, to bike,
to run, to remedy stress
with silver splashes of light)

catch me a moon was a story
I wrote (and memorized,
reciting its words as I tackled
giant hills on my way to school
under silver splashes of light)

catch me a moon is a poem
I write (holding my mended heart
as I rediscover the well-lit path
that will carry me—carry all of us—
as we reach for silver splashes of light.

Black Bicycle Tires

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

At sixteen
(almost seventeen)
I wrote in my journal:
“Busiest street in the city
a solid two days in a row
you crossed it in between
rushes of cars, slow uphill
in gray breath-spilling morning,
heated gasps down the slope in the afternoon.

‘God is sending me miracles!’
you scream out, because
nothing moves as quickly
as black bicycle tires
when it’s almost summer.”

At thirty-one
(almost thirty two),
I write in my journal:
“Silver or magenta,
mountain or road,
black bicycle tires
erase the pain
before and behind me,
a majestic blur of
rubber on pavement,
a remedy for adolescence,
adulthood,
life.

Give Me till May

/ lovizmytrio / 2 Comments

You come from Latin meaning away from
and that’s exactly where I’m sending you—
away from me, from my scale, from the fears for my future
take my backside with you and
don’t let the door hit you on the way out
because I will beat you
work you
crunch the tar out of you
until you’ve vanished
and left only
the smoothness of muscled skin,
the absence of all my baby fat,
and the delicious satisfaction
I will taste with my hungry eyes
every time I look down at my belly.