door

(this is a really, really old poem i found in a pile of papers while cleaning out my closet. i kind of wanted to trash it, but you should never throw away anything you write, and then i realized it had some slant rhymes and wasn't that terrible. so i figured i'd just post it and then ditch the paper. and now this preamble is longer than the poem.)

open on command
locks mean nothing
to battering rams
of words
sit and stare outside
windows are fake
teasing with truth
(with life)
it is only through doors
that we live

isabella

beautiful girl, i loved you
and the way you almost never spoke a word
but everything you said was lasting poetry
and keeps guarded in a certain corner of my mind

darling boy, i love you too
and the choices you make tonight are not
(not)
that important, i promise
parent/guardian mother i promise too
that i am not
(not)
that far gone my boat is still afloat
in this harbor not
(not)
sailing away yet
but see this escape i found is one-way only i
guess so some things don't matter i
guess? i guess i'm doing some
body wrong i
guess these scars match his bruises i
hope because i wanted to i
guess i started to try i
guess? that the moments i replay day
after day darken not brighten i
guess?

mailboxes

he bought a pair of crisp new jeans
and shaved his face clean
just for the occasion
of going home

where horses still flickered in the fields
where the long road stretched above and beyond
the pounded dirt driveway
not so far from those trails of Vietnam

maybe he was trying to tell us
that we can escape blood rain and explosions
because she still had all her clothes on

but it's easier to believe
he wanted nothing of the kind
since genocide
is still genocide
and nobody can hide

it's maize getem for you

i hope that vanilla scent reminds you,
because you're honey-coated and it lingers.
and i brush my fingers
to my lips and drift

off beyond where i forget to remember
where i wish you could join me
where solipsistic apathy
melts to joyous abandon
and i can't force that anymore
because nothing is moving
(i couldn't force it before,
either, but that was soothing)
and i wonder what we'll be doing
years and years and years
from now

if i'll ever have the courage to speak aloud.

static silence

and the pain slowly cedes to fury
an unnatural throbbing clouded out by almost rage
bloody teeth, bite-your-lip bitter
accident.
driving away from everything i want
and the people who have it
(clearly, geography has failed me)

your futures are cold and certain
etched in stone and twined together
like statues of Siamese kittens
or suits of shining armour standing
hand in metal hand

(amazing grace, how strong the faith
that held a woman free
i once stood tall, but now, i fall
was stone but now i bleed)

to lose jewelry and hope in the same
innocent breath that speaks words of such
unintentional cruelty
unrequited love
ill-advised confessions
exaggerated distress
words which almost make it fair
but they won't change the truth,
or even the dare.