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Ashes, Ashes

Ashes, Ashes

Published March 15, 2017

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Your children’s games of holding hands, skipping–

We ring around the rosey and you marvel at the way centripetal force pulls heavy on our legs.

Your laughs are contagious. Everyone want to join.
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They rally to the cause smiling. Laughing

You’ve fistfuls of posies in your hands, in your pockets,

spreading the fragrance and smearing it in our noses.
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I once admired your energy and spirit, held you up as my friend, prevented you from falling.

But you were too afraid to tell me you didn’t want me to play.

But I am already in your backyard.
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I am the kindergarten teacher?

YOU are a boy, but you are not innocent.
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Brother Underwood

Brother Underwood

Published February 8, 2017

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When I was a little girl, I used to love going to church. Our pastor was named Brother Underwood, and he was a warm soul. He would touch our little faces as we walked in on Sundays and called us by name. his hands smelled of lilac lotion and felt warm on my face.

One day in Sunday school he called all the kids to the front pew for a special lesson that I’ll never forget. He handed us all toothpicks and Q-tips, and squeeze toothpaste from a tube. “Try to put it back” he challenged. His words never raised above a whisper. It drew us in, like a secret. None of the adults in the room would hear his message.

We each got a turn scraping the toothpaste with our tools. Each of us was sure we would be the victor. We couldn’t.

Once you say something, once you do something, you can never take it back.

No apology will ever repair all future doubts. No excuses can repair disappointment.
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Sick of Being Sick

Sick of Being Sick

Published January 23, 2017

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These lungs sputter like a car running low on fuel.

My exhaust fumigating, contaminating the precious air.

Just Breathe.

I can’t Breath! This chest backfires, coursing microexplosions.

Convulsing.

Violent, like blood smeared highways. Thick liquid.

Unfamiliar taste.
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Run Away With Me  – Craigslist Poem

Run Away With Me  – Craigslist Poem

Published October 16, 2016

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Missed Connections Post Id: 5480836772
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You said this to me joking around. I remember we were driving down a rusty, autumn highway.

Dust rising up around the tires. Cow manure smelled like freedom.

I lost myself in the wind, saw our pasts blowing across the brittle prairie grass.

I imagined driving west until we ran out of gas. Then we’d fuel the car on love.

If you ever meant it. I would think about it again.

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