22 March 2017


Never let me down.
Never let me down.

- Depeche Mode

I just wanted the option,
even if I didn't choose it.
I just wanted
to have all of the cards,
even the ones with
the bent corners.
When you get to be thirty,
she said,
you start running
out of options.
Your body grows spiders
instead of babies.
And lo, my womb
is full of tiny creatures
not human, pulsing and ticking,
giving me nothing,
letting me down.
The body is a temple,
she said,
so treat it with respect.
But there is no respect here.
It is does not reciprocate,
regardless of McDonald's meals
or hummus sandwiches.
It lets me down.
It is full of fire,
wicking up the webs left
by tiny creatures, clinging
to the walls of all
I will ever have.

21 March 2017


One day, I will settle the score,
which isn't a threat
nor a promise,
and it isn't directed at anyone but myself.

12 February 2017


Dry lipstick
fills small cracks
with confidence,
I am a fuckup
in a dark room,
eyes fixed on a mirror
and I swear I am pixels.
I swear I am an image.
I touch my lip
and red pours out,
fills a glass.
I am thirsty, so I drink.
I drink to be real.
Please, hold my glass,
hold me, hold me.

30 January 2017

Cold war

when all I want
is for you
to be proud of me
and I wait
for an answer:
the crackers
in your cold soup.

Coffee gone cold

In this age of second helpings
and second comings, I scour
the edges of a simple map
while you grunt disapproval.
I thought I had it in me,
but instead, I help you
straighten your tie
to reality. I know the map better
than you do, but my legs are numb
and my brain is aflame,
so I don't know what to do.
Your lips flap, your mouth
laps up your coffee,
leaving small crumbs to float.
You are as careless as you are proud.
I stare at one of the crumbs,
a little brown thing lost at sea,
disposable like my loved ones.
I don't know
what you mean or what you want,
but go fuck off anyway.

22 January 2017

Dear Richard

what is your favorite meal
so that I may
poison it?

what is your least-favorite race
so that I may invite
as many as I can

to celebrate?

17 January 2017

Predictable Motions

I want to marry
a girl or a boy
and be as normative
and dehydrated as fuck,
carrying multiple infants
on my back, a soldier muscling
through the terrible terrains
of america, all soft, grey trouble.

Because I am depressed
and familiar, a pretend Sexton
with candy cigarettes,
I will require eighteen hours
in bed, smoothing my greasy bangs
close to my brow
in romantic, predictable motions.

I am a flake and a terror, but I know how to float.

I will teach you
how to swim if you teach me
how to dream.

03 January 2017

No purchase necessary

I spread my love across
separate gift cards
and payday loans.

If only the tooth fairy
still visited, I would
take pliers to my own mouth.

There is no salve
at the dollar store,
and there are no pills
at my mother's house,
and yet I still snoop
through drawers,
examine dirty shelves,
pretend to tie shoes
that are already
perfectly tight,
to be strong
when the same
questions sting.

I spread my love across
unmade beds in unwelcome homes.

In a dream, I give
my teeth to you,
and you are whole again.

13 December 2016

I Want You

I want you
to be proud of me
and have me as
your noble girl.
I want to laugh with you
and cry with you.
Can you hold my face
and wipe my tears?
I will fill your belly
and wrap your shivering body.
I will trace your features
and kiss your chin.
When the lights burn out
I will look to your eyes
and hope they will
carry me softly
to your side, where I belong.

20 November 2016

The Collector

When you loved me,
you told me secrets,
and I carefully wrapped each one
and stored them where even you
forget, under leaves and snow,
under traditions and inside jokes.
I recall the location of every truth,
hardened, even though you
are long gone, your footprints trailing.
These treasures
were not enough to keep you.
Surely, I will collect others,
squirrel them away
for a time when I am useful.