Published poetry
-
Today is brilliant
and blue—
it reminds me of summer days
spent
with you.Coffee and
cicadas
on the porch
of
the
big yellow house.Back then
we loved to
orbit in
each other’s spheres.Imagine if we knew then
what would become of
us
in just a few years.You had a habit of
recreating yourself.
Insisting to be
the most
interesting person
in the room.A room
I cherished
until
I became
suffocated by it.Now, no rules can apply,
Unless it’s your own game
of chess.
And the pawns are carefully chosen
for your army
that marches askew.You were always
armed and ready to fight,
fighting with no one
but You.It hurts to remember
us,
and trust,
all those years ago.In the fields of fate,
may you gather
and reap the seeds
you've sown.Now my tears
are gone,
the well has run dry.I hope I never
think of you
when I look at the sky. -
We hear seagulls shriek, but I
think they cry out in rejoice to the sea.
We may never know what they’re saying, but
sometimes I know what they mean.
The current is
Expansive, peaceful, dangerous,
and salty.
It carries things
Creatures, ships, trash,
our worries.
We float for fun and come to it
for relief.
Virginia Woolf loved the water
So I’m not surprised she let it take her. -
We forgot to water our succulents
when our home was full of guests
and our calendars were inked with pen.
Now we forget for other reasons
like our minds being imprisoned
by too much grey and not enough color.
The garden path has become cold and damp
and after buying all these plants
I want to know what happens to the fern in the winter?
I read somewhere that they don’t actually die
they just lose their green
and need extra warmth.
So I guess we’re ferns,
always searching for the color.