Used to U - 2022

What a gift
That the bones of my back are worn into the groves of your rock
That I need a bad dream to understand living without you

What a gift
To slowly peel the layers of your soul
To wake up to your sunrise farts
To create a life and lives and a woman together
To heal and grow beyond what brought us here
To take your heart for granted each day

Like the moonrise, there you are
Glowing steady, strong

Lucky me… to be used to you

Dear Muse

I think I love you and am obsessed with you and dream about nestling my head into your shoulder
because you were nice to me.

Twenty-eight years ago, when I was lying in my bed and you were sitting in the beanbag chair and playing guitar,
you saw me
and felt me
and knew me.

In a house with two sisters, two dogs, one cat (that I was allergic to), a mom too frazzled to pack me lunch (or give me lunch money), and a dad who used to molest me

you seeing me was a revelation.

It unlocked something that part of me is still searching for

so I keep coming back, in my dreams,
to you.

here we are together

I think I’m here just so we can be together

so I can give you that look across the table,

squeeze your hand as we walk to the park,

rub your back when you don’t know why you’re crying

that’s all really

children grow

daffodils bloom

foundations crumble

and here we are, together

Oh, to be grieving in spring!

Like a toddler’s tantrum at the circus,

Or a bad mushroom trip at a house party,

I’m out of place—walking among garish daffodils and eager hyacinth.

Surely I belong in a deep, damp cave,
wrapped in a bearskin,
sucking snot and whimpering at my misfortune.

Surely I don’t belong here, in spring,
where birds yell “good morning!” and Ori’s spindly legs finally find fresh air.

“Juxtaposition, you’re cruel!” cries the cavebound woman, wagging her fist,
blinking wildly at the sun.

Still… free.

Shame, she told me, is key
to unlocking the next level of consciousness.
Oh, and don't forget about humiliation!

---

Suddenly, I'm at the dinner table, seven years old, 
watching him bully you, a child.
My heart runs like raw yolk.

---

Adult me, yoking myself to
yoga and meditation.
Sitting on beaches,
praying the pain away.

---

Oh, the humiliation!
Of being a human,
of having this body that was used so young.

---

Still, here I am,
yoking myself to yoga and meditation,
moved to tears by a hot pink sunrise.
Because here we all are
still
still...
free.

my casual mid-life crisis

what’s the trajectory of a mid-life crisis?

does it crash and burn,
like the Harley Davidson i bought with borrowed money?

does it elevate me,
like my new shaved/bleached hairdo?

does it stay and linger,
like the heaviness in my gut?

this isn’t a crisis so much as a subtle unnamed unrest

maybe my trip to Jamaica will fix it

I hate my lungs.

Why?

They kept me alive when I wanted to die.

Escarpment

She’s telling me something

about myself

about danger

about hutzpah

about power.

She’s telling me a secret

I can’t put into words

because her language is too slow

for my millisecond of a life.

Older? Wiser?

I used to crave being next to the ocean,

waves crashing so loud i couldn’t hear myself think.

These days,

I long for the whisper of a stream in the woods.

Am i older? Wiser?

Or just tired.

Uncatchable Muse

Maybe 3:22am is the time to write about you,
because the rest of my day is diaper-filled.

At 3:22am, I can lean into our kiss slowly
and wait until my head finds just the right tilt
to make you happy.

You like it when I tilt to the right, right?