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–

The robbing fingers 

You inspired me once 

Please inspire me again 

Show me how to shut the off button 

And press the on to inside

Inside my soul

Inside my mind

To a place I fail to rewind to.

Lately I’ve been having these flashes 

Of people, places and things-

They come ever so often

Popping in my mind these unwelcome guests

The fingers unwelcome guests in my four year old vagina 

Watching cartoons while my mom and uncle talked at the kitchen table

How could you not notice that something 

Wasn’t right?

That I was being taken advantage of?

To put it more clearly-

That I was being molested by a family member?

His face I can’t recall

How old he was

What was his name…?

In my mind’s eye 

I feel a larger body spooning behind me

A being that knows what he’s doing is sinister and wrong

But some unsatiated animal and its hunger takes hold of his decision to choose right instead 

Robbing me of everything I had- eveything I could ever be- in that moment

Cheating me of any purity

Any innocence 

Any sense or chance of a “normal”

Childhood 

And I always wonder 

As I wonder now 

how and when will any of that be rectified? 

When do I get any of that freedom or joy back?

The place my soul was before the prying fingers 

The robbing fingers 

Took it all away–

Traveling lens 

See the world through my eyes 

She said 

Or walk a mile in my shoes

The idioms all the same

Cliches 

For what you would find is

That my world is quite like yours 

And so is the walk 

Long and arduous 

Room for growth 

And still more room for peace 

Wishing things away so I can focus on me 

But as the divine just intuited to me 

As it probably has been for days

Weeks

Months 

And probably years 

Inspiration comes from everywhere

You just have to do the damn work–