Snip Snip, cheerio!
June 13, 2011 § Leave a comment
When I stood in front of the bathroom mirror,
angry, cutting my hair short,
all I could hear was the clean zip of the scissors closing,
and your voice from over a year ago,
“Fat girls look better with long hair.”
All I’ve written in the past week has been about gender.
June 9, 2011 § Leave a comment
Gender. Gender identity, gender roles, the gender binary, gender benders, gender-appropriate bathrooms, gender-specific products, and so forth. I am obsessed.
Why can’t you see what I see
June 1, 2011 § Leave a comment
He gives you money
monthly, in hopes that you start
loving him to bits.
Lovers in Taylors Bakery
May 10, 2011 § 2 Comments
They shake hands,
say ” I am surprised to see you here.”
and it is awkward.
He invites her to sit down, asks her how her mother is, tells her she looks good.
She is embarrased. She stirs the straw in her tea many times.
He says he is learning how to cook something besides ramen noodles,
she says she has a new lamb recipe she wants to try.
She is eyeing him nervously, he is tapping his foot,
he says something about the stockmarket, she tries to follow along.
He lists all the Thai places in the area he likes to eat at,
she says she got a puppy since he left. He whips his head up. surprised.
“The empty was too big without you.” She said.
He says “I know.”
He says he hasn’t been with anyone since her, she says no one else kisses her collarbones the way he did,
He says “We could have been lovely together,”
She says “we were.”
I was lazy today.
May 7, 2011 § Leave a comment
I head-edited a poem while I was driving to my parents house. I don’t feel like typing it.
Poem number 4, in which Sarah offers you nothing but a list of compound words that are profound when pondered on, together or seperately.
May 4, 2011 § Leave a comment
Be-come some-body
any-body
be-cause some-where
some-one’s
friend-ship,
up-coming grass-hopper,
be-came sweet-heart.
You are a child’s plaything, you are a sad, strange, little man
May 3, 2011 § Leave a comment
I am learning about heartbreak, I am learning about family.
There is a hurricane just outside my bedroom door.
It is you, and your father,
a hurricane and a thunderstorm.
Your voices,
both loud.
You want to go back to your class, to your friends, to normalcy.
He says no.
He says you don’t have friends, no one wants to be your friend because
they are afraid of you.
This is true,
but it’s an aweful thing to say to a kid.
I like watching you,
from afar,
because I think I would be you if I was not so afraid and silent and pensive.
There is little I can say that would truely make things better for you.
No one can respect your intelligence, nor can they look past your social awkwardness.
This is middle school.
You say you want to see your friends.
I hear you punch walls, yell, your voice thick and faltering because you are crying.
You are a hurricane.
I hear the undescribable noise of glass shattering, the low klunk of books thrown from a shelf, your dog whining,
the crash of a block tower being knocked down.
and I am jealous because I could not produce those symtpoms of emotion.
Even when I try.
I want to learn the secret of your ability to release,
because (let’s face it)
no one minds a title wave
on a shore that is already empty.
Hand-me-down dreams (Yesterday’s poem, forgot to post!)
May 3, 2011 § Leave a comment
I’m wearing your hand-me-down clothes.
They fit like a second skin,
a comfy, well-worn pair of jeans.
I’ve washed them twice and they still smell like you.
At night I slip on your pajamas,
I go to sleep, I slip on your dreams.
I wake up, put your jeans back on and some of your old hair spray.
I slip on your old habits, but those I am pulling on slowly.
A cigarrette here, a little alcohol there,
I haven’t put them on all the way
I look like you, feel like you, smell like you, taste like you, act like you,
I like it a lot more than I thought I would.