begonia angel:
perfect wings and hollow center
symbol of my life

begonia angel:
perfect wings and hollow center
symbol of my life

the most perfect park
the most perfect afternoon
marred by words, actions

my innocent girl
who only wanted this day
not a broken mom

but it's just a blur
one day bleeds into the next
watered with defeat
surrounded by blooms
(yet the reality kills)
as they slowly die




i used to write poetry
broken lines, imperfect syllables, heart
so hard so imperfect so fucking bright
like the blue sky trying to break through and taunt a hailstorm but instead instead
instead
it's just ice
not the rain we needed to cool us in a heatwave
just ice
tearing through my well-tended garden
stealing the blue sky
steeling the blue eye
and ruining me
family tradition:
plant trees for graduates
and watch how they grow



my mother's tree stands
at my great-aunt's former home
taller than us all


my sister's tree shades
disappearing middle-class
(our childhood home)

and my tree shocks me
evading the ash borer
with grandiose grace

thank you for the “no.”
as phallic as this lupine
(allium ignored)

i will learn from this
(things i tell myself at night)
and grow a sagebrush

it will bloom purple
(you can’t see my true color)
and you can’t taste it

yet, here it blossoms
as beautiful as the home
you constantly loathe

i know. i know. i…
you don’t see what i see. stop.
but god. how it hurts.

these rare teen moments
everyone together; joy
minus jobs, school, stress


summer days beckon
drinks on rooftop patios
(mocktails for the kids)

the cold creek calls us
with shade, icy refreshment
from the sun’s harsh heat

and these cousins bond
under summer vacation
(our home is their heart)

the mountains call us
with their peak views, quaking aspens
(listen for the call)



i’ve tried hard for grins
as hard as they are to earn
(teen reality)
