Poetry
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He Said/She Said
In case I forget, he said, I love you.
I love you, she said, as if there was no one else in the world to love.
That’s how it should be, he said, and he kissed her pink mouth with his thick, brown lips.
Why I need Feminism
Because the worst thing you call a man is a girl.
Because in seventh grade I asked my mom why girls shave their legs and
she said it makes us feel clean.
Because I felt clean until she said that.
Because I shaved my legs for the first time that night.
Household Gods
We might have been Taoists
those early summer months
in the house, the loving energy
of chi guiding us room by room
as we unpackedand arranged
our new life.
The Dismantler
Words I cull are threaded with bits of him
So savory and crude
Pieces of fat and muscle dripping off roast
And I told him the migraines are not aches
But dismantlers.
Expectations
I had never been to the seaside.
I knew what to expect, though.
I had a book about it.
There were lots of pictures
The Life Cycle
Grandma had wisdom to impart,
but not everyone made time to listen.
She lived downstairs in her daughter’s home.
As she lay in her bed at night,
she listened for the beating of her heart.
Melodies stole their way to her
and rhythms beat a path.
Reliving the Nightmare
Little black specs
Curled hairs in a pile between her feet
A tear might have fallen down her cheek
But there was no moisture left in her body
Instead, a drop of blood fell upon the hairs [pulled from her skin]
As if in an effort to mask the results of
Her humiliation
Grocery Cashier
After punching in, she opens her
register, counts bills and splits
up rolls of coins. Her arms ache
from yesterday. From pulling together
store items, piling them in bags.
Word Processor
Margie often thought words
just spilled through her fingers.
It was all learned so long ago
by touch typing in school.
Failed Attempt at Trying
And I was listening to country fusion
Driving a little faster than I ought from the Souplantation to home
Allowing my mind to suspend above lived experience to fantasy
Funny how these isolated moments puncture my misery just enough to inspire this
Perfectly Imperfect
It started when we stood hopefully,
with our thumbs outstretched
by an English roadside.
We were heading towards Italy and Yugoslavia
without maps or money,
or sense of direction.
The Miscarriage
I peed on a stick
…and a cross appeared.
A child to come.
A child when I was told I could never have one.
Storms Ahead
I talk about the soul a lot
The soul being tarnished and how it can never return to its once innocent state
To her it felt like a Category 5 tornado blasting through her psyche without warning
Bad Choice
This can't be all there is for life. But our lives get greedy.
Hill folk understand. The very wealthy understand.
You told me that you know it's too late now.
I don't know what late is anymore.