You

You are probably
the 3rd person to suggest, no-
FORCE the idea into my existence that
this is what my new life will be
a life you don’t have much to do with
except through your looking glass
the life you are not growing at all.
it’s not your body
it’s not your place to say
I would assume
you know much better than this
3 ladies
one
two
three–
what gives you the right to
even think
you can think
about what goes inside the womb
this womb
that does not belong to you?
having dreams
solving mysteries
predicting
as if it’s all some fun, early evening
game show…?
I’d like to be left alone
the quietude of my tan blanket
and new sheets
warmth of the surrounding material
encapsulating my skinny bones
my threadbare arms
my naked feet
waiting for the gift to come
some silence
and then
you–

Possibility

Sitting here
contemplating ways to keep busy
I am reminded of the
endless boredom
of teenage  years long past
prisoner on my living room floor
1,000 mile (yard) stare
into the horizon of nothingness
no faith in the future
No idea of what would happen
My feeble imagination could not
fathom anything else and yet
here we are

What feels so stale is
in fact
as fresh as it will ever be
until tomorrow
when I will continue to meet
a new
me–

 

New 

Standing at the 

Precipice 

of eternity 

Once again

I catch a glimpse into 

Your big tiny heart 

Wondering what 

collective name we will give

You

What heaven you will come from 

What star will you

Tell the story of 

What footprint 

Will you leave 

When your page

Is written 

When your work 

is finally done? 

Disgusting water bug 

You creepy crawly

Just roll in 

Perfect timing for Halloween

The sight of you makes my skin crawl

And my body jump

The idea of breathing doesn’t exist

As I fly from one room to the next 

Bounding over furniture and baby gates

To the safety of my snugly warm bed

Still slightly scared 

Still slightly nervous 

That you will get me in here–

Bake

Picturing you 

A dream 

Awake

The kind of child

I will always love

The kind of womb 

That takes its time

The kind of creation

That crinkles in the eyes 

A love supreme 

A masterpiece 

Divine–

The Queen

You stand up there
tall and proud
black and proud
with your nude lace up heels,
cheetah print maxi skirt
with a slit up the side
thick leather belt that
wraps around your black
skin tight leotard
covered by a light beige duster
with big tufts of fur on the collar–
I admire your look
and I admire you even more
after you tell the large crowd you are
68–
and then I admire you even more
as you begin to tell us about your life
how you left for four years
and came back just today
how people had run you out
when they were supposed to have
had your back
were supposed to have supported you
in your darkest, loneliest
most confusing moments
and instead, when you did not fit their
image of the “queen”
(which is what they called you
and you begged to differ)
they pretended you did not exist
and so you asked
(I ask)
what is this then
the program we call
a God-given program?
if we can’t see ourselves in each other
if we can’t remember that we are
all the same
that we all come from the same place
no matter our sexual identity, creed, religion
or lack of religion
and with that crack of your voice
the quavering of your chin
seducing one tear or more tears
out of my eyes
telling us all of your pain and suffering
I heard my story too
and his and her story
and probably everybody’s story
and I thought, well dammit
you are still the Queen
even if you are not in your eyes
but mine
and even if you weren’t or aren’t
the woman we should be bowing to
I still respect you for
being you
and sharing with me all of you
which makes me
a better person–

Missing Poems

Forgot to write a poem today
the buzzing in my veins
forbids me from sitting down
getting grounded
or letting go
So please Creator
see this feeble attempt
at expression a reminder
of my unwavering dedication to you
and that all I should do
be in reverence to you
the divine force
the heartbeat
the baby in the mother’s womb–