Tag Archives: vacation

In Silence

I guess there are always a thousand things. In the city, down the mountain, in the city. I didn’t want to throw away a good word, so I reused it on you. It isn’t that I am unkind, you weren’t … Continue reading

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The Next Line

I love hearing you read. I never know the answers before you say them. Something about silence in a poem and I’m home. My mother pulls her robe closer to her body. She is smaller than I am. I tell … Continue reading

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Prayer of my heart in June.

My heart is a castle on water, His promises are true when I wake. I am dark and lovely as a shadow, He is found in the caverns by the sea. My hope is a dove before storm breaks. My … Continue reading

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Ohio

Ohio has a coastline that snakes thinner than its five lane highways. I had no idea. The houses are square, two stories, peaked roofs, close together as teeth with full green trees gumming between them. The airport is clean and … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry, Summer, travel | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

Being Mono

I am tired of being mono. This tired again and again and the slow low buzz of an outgoing call that never made it to the receiver. It’s called the kissing disease but that was back in college when drinks … Continue reading

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Passenger.

I cannot unwrite what has been told by history. Moving forward along the Hudson, in the second to last car, I think about my grandfather. His tenement on East 51st was evacuated when the U.N. was being built. My roommate … Continue reading

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Saturday Catch Up.

I keep reading you. It does not make the disappointment enough to swallow. This morning the neighbors bought more flowers, shrubs, herbs for the backyard. I cannot make myself keep up. The white dress laid across the arm chair, flowered … Continue reading

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16 of 30. Grace before Sleep

Let me fall asleep while I tell you about Grace, and how she spoke so softly. She used to take me out and show me her favorite brands of jeans and dresses. She’d have me come to McDonald’s with her … Continue reading

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For Every Barista Ever, and Especially for Sunshine. 13 of 30. #napomo

Sunshine is a poet, says her arm, cut-out-heart with scissor a permanent stamp; a new name. Sunshine makes coffee, makes chai and latte, sunshine is not her name. Smiles slow as chemex, steams the milk with her eyes closed, hair … Continue reading

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Bathing in Kitchens. Something of 30. #napomo

Anna Karenina backstrokes the moon, while my mother bathes Lyndsay in the kitchen sink. I marvel at the bubbles, the glow of outerbridge stretching toward New Jersey. Women’s bodies bend; the heart hardly fits in a cage made of bone; … Continue reading

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