Category: Poetry

Poem: Raw

Like wanting to carve my own body, up through intestines and stomach and liver to the residence of the heart. To squeeze and bleed her dry, take every beat of hers away. Then climb up past the lungs Up through the esophagus To spill into the mouth and Rip through the sinus cavity To the…

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Poem: Drag Night

The mahogany double doors open and the woman submerges into a cloud of smoke. The fog machine ushers her into the room and into a crowd of cheering people. A large woman, dressed in purple sequence, clad in fish net tights and eyeshadow sprawling from ridge to lid, descends the stairs. The woman at the…

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Poem: Taxman Jones

The Corolla screams as it slows to a stop,  Resting at a weeping brick building. Both the car and the walls are gray and peeling. A flick of the wrist and the engine shimmies And clunk, clunk, clunks. Silence. My frown deepens to the point It hurts. My hand caresses the handle and SLAM. My…

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Poem: A Most Fitting Cliche

The final cut: Like fresh shaven legs Or the snip-snip of a “new do” Or a new dye job Or trashing an entire wardrobe Like wanting everything to be different Wanting nothing to recognize And no memories to ache Or photos to caress No name badge to don And no ducking behind walls No working…

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Poem: I hate this poem 

I was once a little girl Spinning in circles, eyes cast down Watching my dress bloom around me from my waist, detaching at the knees reaching out, around and around until the galaxies kept in my brain Exploded, and I fell to the ground in ecstasy, while the earth reminded me that She is indeed…

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Poem: Untitled

I couldn’t save you yesterday. I could not fix your wounded soul. I was not your willing savior, Or the answer to your prayers. My to-do list is daunting And the laundry’s piled up. I have a quiz on Tuesday for a class I haven’t managed to attend. My cello’s corroding in the corner And…

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Poem: The Inadequecy of Words

How do you explain something that does not exist anywhere but your head? How do you form words for feelings impossible? How do you talk about the cracks in your brain caused by no weapons? 13 new countries, 16 new homes, 60 interviews, 500 new friends, 459 good-byes, and 1 lie: “Yes, I’ll come back”–because…

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