my sunday

I followed a familiar path
and looked for signs of you

even though I wasn't really sure
that I even wanted to find you.

I moved alongside your footprints,
stepped in and out of your shadow,



but I found my way without you,
glancing back only to watch
the sun glow between strands of curls.

And I climbed rocks and
stood tall on boulders,
unwavering,

and not once did I reach for your hand.



I found my way to the edge
without you.



Facing this space that holds eternity,
I stretch out my hand to grab onto
something more.

I try to whisper to myself,
but the wind steals my words.

So,
I sit

and I wait
for this moment to pass.

a better place

I step out of my shoes
to meet the ground,
sink to the bottom of lakes
to listen to the quiet

because I need to remind myself.


Tucked into the creases of paper airplanes,
I send my thoughts elsewhere
and sit silently

and unmoving

with the space between

because I need to remind myself.


The air around me stretches and widens
until the moon meets the sun,
and I hold my own hand,

and I remember now

because I need to remind myself.

displaced

looking for arms to fall into,
my chest swells to exhale
the scent of my mother's perfume.

estee lauder waves away the alone
and recites the insides of greeting cards
with bent corners and bible verses.

the smell cloaks me in crocheted afghans
and lifts the heavy curls away from my brow
wrinkled with thought.

it speaks to me
with the rise and fall of her concerns

until my shoulders sink under its weight.

things that made me happy today

sunshine through the car visor

small voices calling my name

new friends and pillow talk

fake blue fingernail in the hallway

letting go.

leaving st. augustine

waiting for a fortunate accident

patiently.

decidedly.


it is autumn now,
and the leaves have parted ways with the branches to expose
your absence.

i dig,
knuckles and nose turning red under a canopy of cold rain,
to release your roots from the soil we once
shared.

little wings take flight
at the shake of their perch,
this uprooted skeleton of you.

and with them i send all of my doubt
and lift my chin toward the kindness of memories.

i reach under my skin to find
the pulse of a new affection,

i wrap it in words of other women
and plant it under the strength of my bare feet.


i can still hear its whisper
as i walk away.

7 year itch

I wanted to hear you say it,

And you had already told me in
so many ways
Even though you were too weak to
open your mouth.

I have to squint to see the man you once were
to me.

What are you holding on to anyway?

I would assume your arms are growing tired of
holding me at
arm's length.

Let go of my hand,
it's no longer your own,

And when you close your eyes now,
you'll have to dream alone.

Release the space between us
like a black dove that will not
return.

It will all work out in the end, they say,
it will all work out
in the end.