no more money lunches
plus-one on a yacht
full of nobody good
stuffed shirts and big mouths
i never wanted any part
of the truffle oil world
it was nice i guess
for a bit of change
but i never saw any
pass to empty hands
i saw big live lobster tails
get cracked
over minimal tips
nothing meant anything
when we had enough
to waste

Your Heart is a Language

Your heart is a language
I’ve always known how to speak–
words are our playthings
but we really talk in beats–

I know your rhythms
I’ve followed them for so long
I hear your reasons
pounding in your chest

You owe no explanations–
I trusted you first
before you were mine
and some things won’t change

There’s an art to letting go
and I’ve learned it well
you can only add,
not subtract

and I know you need to fly far
but you always come back

Wait for Me, Sisters

wait for me, sisters–
i’m coming up behind
got a fist of crushed love
i’m here to join the line

take communion with a cup of salty tears
sing hymns about our realized fears

i got nowhere left to go
will you kindly take me in
i’ll be quiet as the grave
while i’m atoning for my sins

write a letter to the past to warn myself
put it with the other lessons left unopened on the shelf

wait up for me, sisters–
i have so much more to learn
take my fist of crushed love
give me a candle to burn

Day 365 – Finished!

I wrote a lot of poems for this day
but none of them seemed to fit–
I think it will suffice to say
it’s been wild

Thank you to everyone who read, liked, and shared feedback about my year in poetry. It’s finished! I started this journey on the advice of my therapist who encouraged me to start writing again when I felt like I didn’t have it in me anymore. A year of learning and growing has taught me that I do have it and always will. It’s time now to take a break and focus on other creative projects but I’m certain I’ll be back. I can never keep away.

Until next time!

Day 362 – Her

She lives in me–
her voice, her choices
all her tendencies I soaked in
all her mistakes I don’t want to make
I see her face in the mirror
I see her handwriting
coming out of my hands
I hear her barking laugh
coming out of me
and I see her pushing
out of fear–
she taught me that, too
I do it well and
running away seems to be
the thing I thought would fix it
but how could I get away
from her mind in mine?
I am difficult like my mother
I will not stay that way
I do remember
I do see, at least,
the difference.

Day 360 – Every Little

Every little girl
I encourage to write,
to be brave, to stand tall
to use her own voice
is me–
I become the beacon of hope
she always needed.

Every little boy
I hug and put band-aids on,
protect from bullies
young and old,
assure that pink is for him too
is you–
I become the great protector
I wish you had.

I can’t go back and save us
but I’ll spend the rest of my life
building a bridge for them
to safely cross the stream.