My mother always asks me to write a poem about her
But it doesn’t work that way
And I told her that
And she continues listening anyways. She says
She’s going to beat up
all the women who have hurt me in my poems
And only half jokingly
And has learned the art of subtly asking who
each new poem is
about
And I don’t doubt that if she could
She would become words from my pen and
On my page
So that she could protect me
Without needing to get on a plane
And though it’s just love
Yes
It still makes me feel safe
And allows me to day dream twice as hard

The winter woods have always been my home.

They do not judge the girl who walks alone.

Their skyward branches lift my spirits high,

the snow is my white blanket when I cry.

The trees have heard my songs and seen my tears,

the rocks have felt my joy and know my fears.

The mountaintops have always been my stage,

they do not judge, or tremble at my rage.

The wind will stop and listen when I speak,

the forest makes me strong when I am weak.

The winter woods have always been my home,

for the embrace the girl who walks alone.

a seashell on a wooden table
inland
so inland you’d never buy sea food here
and you hold it to your ear
because you’ve never been to the sea
and don’t know a clam shell holds
no sound
and wonder at the sand
you’ve heard is like your dirt
but finer
cleaner
less dead-moth-ridden

a book of wisdom
filled with pages
of foolishness
in the hands of many
without hope for
more
basing every decision
on being better
when the best is
nowhere near good enough
when the best is
menstrual rags
before the only One
whose opinion matters

This man cuts delicately
and with purpose

This man has an art to him
and a sight in his eyes

His is a gentle way,
but a righteous way,

but he loses track
sometimes

We have begun counting
his steps down the stairs

We have tallied his
transgressions

He has two ticks on the board,
but the first is smeared a bit

It has been up too long to
remember where it’s counted from.

He smiles mostly these days,
and grips the banister loosely

He cuts with purpose.
He stays mostly on track.

He has two ticks
nonetheless.