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.
eighteen years finished
with this mask that hides us all
from society
my perfect symbol:
trying so hard for peaches
even while dying
we'll never escape
the "boot straps" mentality
or fix these numbers
there's no heartbreak here
just my girl, eighteen years old,
ready to face them
sneakers underneath
(pandemic proms are outdoors,
under tents, in grass)
she's taller, braver.
in her silver floor-length gown,
she masters the night
and aren't we a crowd?
this master-mix of humans,
standing on these rocks?
unsinkable us
right below the Molly Brown
(ready to swim. Win.)
vaccines could save us
(yet not from the ignorance
spread without needles)
rainy Mother's Day
(cantaloupe aches for planting)
my babies: plants, pets
this side of the glass
has me trapped like a sad pup
just begging entry
all i want today
is to watch the sunlight shift
on these reborn blooms
the blue-sky morning
can't capture a year of loss
(oh Lord, that sweet scent)
yet afternoon light
so perfectly shines rosy
(ends this hell-frost year)
sometimes numbers lie
(yet, if you want to trade spots...
you might understand)
Step Write Up 