looking up at you
bracing yourself against the bedposts
the thumb of my right hand
gum-sucked and shriveled is still in your mouth.
your knee moves closer, presses,
you release your weight
and I’m trapped beneath the wonder of all of you
and our sweat-wet sheets.
moving beneath you
your hands slither down my sides
and grasp my ass through my green shorts
I want you even though I already have you
behind my breasts my heart aches and strains
against love so violently hot
I’m afraid it will kill us both.
freshly showered shoulders
muscles shoved between your beautiful bones
how does your flesh contain them?
young, warm, full of sugar breath and blood
a beautiful bone—how can I contain it?
Doe Voice Mist Hair, with quiet campfire voice
sparking sparkling spinning out drowning in bayou
blue post meridiem noon. She may fool you with
those mixed heritage soul-doors, cold wars of words
between back home, here now,there then and new
house. Susan of the wind, of the Lost Songs,
the shadow trout-catcher’s sister, of honey voice,
of the red blood, Blackfoot, pink tongue, gold coin
clan, of the laughter; Susan of sad smiles, of scholars,
Of working against the system inside the system.
Wolf eyes, dusk gray, peace pipe ash gray, sugar
shaved wind pipe, teeth torn stories of mixed heritage.
Those eyes will trick you; lure you in as her words
burrow into your chest, sneaking and staining
PeterPanned arteries—swirling up until they grasp
throat walls and tickle your uvula until you gag on her
raw, rough and tender beauty. Buck Brave, Frost Curls
Wild girl on her sixty-first round trip around the sun—
Car Stealer’s beloved, Pocahontas carrier, half breed
well bred song sister, save room in your palm for
my fingers to hold. I’m wild like you and scared of
What it means to be a syrup sweet savage. Stag Heart
Milk Mane, let me tag along and be Wild with you
and walk in your footfalls and catch the taste of
exhaled spirit songs. I was born half and half and
Wild and naked like you on an October night
cold as ghost thumbs and wolf pelt blue.
She been ‘round the sun
twenny one times, and when
men tryn’a grasp it,
askin’ if her heart is there
where the cleft of plush chest
rests just above her dress
she pushes off advances,
flash signs with her hands an
sticks a middle finger
where she knows she can orgasm—
in her mouth, beside her tongue,
(she’s stupid, not dumb)
under ruby toothy gums full
of wine, bud and cum. Her
Father who art in Heaven
hasn’t holla’d at His kid
in weeks. Speak for Your
servant is listenin’ man,
her best-laid plans haven’t
panned, and she’s been waitin
on manna but gotta eat sand.
Your miracles don’t compare
to her fare: water to wine
and Lazarus alive? Child’s play,
watch her create—turning
minimum wage into maximum gain
working all day ignoring
the hunger pains. She can turn
naps to silk, raps to milk
for the kids, she makes miracles
out of mayonnaise, Cajun jambalaya
with two grains of rice, feeds
a yawning mouth with
courage and vice. Surprised?
She ain’t babblin’, baby,
them’s worship words worthy
of His working everything out
for the good of His kids. Damn,
a bowl full of mids, she cups the
ceremony smoke with her tongue
cheeks and lids, it’d be a shame
if the Kingdom came now, she
ain’t done His will, but don’t
worry, she’s grown, even though
she’s alone, if He leaves her down
here, puff-puff-pass, she’ll
get there on her own.
[this is a poem I wrote about a boy I have a crush on…he’ll never see it because we’re good friends and I don’t think he feels the same way about me, but I had to get my feelings out on paper.]
You have the perfect name
for rhyming
ready time me:
free, glee, bee
and every adverb perfectly
a superb subject for
musical, lyrical poetry
three letter question
to the answer on Jeopardy:
he’s the hottest boy at WSC.
you rhyme with see, tree, three,
the birds and the bees
don’t think I’m weird, please—
but I like the curve of your bottom lip
the round strength of your shoulders
If I was bolder I’d pen
all the ways I’d like
to test your strength and then
start rhyming again
tea, fee, me,
peaches and cream,
you dance like a dream
and we’d make a good team
but your helmet would be
cooler than mine
Because you’re out of my league.
and I like that you rhyme
but I’ve got nicknames for days
I should call you Bank,
because you make me feel safe
I could call you Kung Fu
I like to kick it with you
Or maybe UHaul
because I love how you move
No, I should call you Sugar
‘Cause you’re sweeter than sweet—
and I’ve never met a guy
who was just like Lee.
I’ll call you Coffee Cake—
the perfect morning treat when I wake up
barefooted and shivering to face
furious New England frost, and windows laced
with ice, steam, and smudgy fingermarks
from warm hands pulling back the shades to find dawn.
I’ll call you H.D.
for Harley Davidson
for Hot Damn
for Holding (me) Down
I’ll call you Maraca—
the way you take my hand and make
my fingers interdigitate between
your smooth knuckles; the feeling of intimate
palm to palm warmth makes my exhale hitch
in my throat and my heart shake.
chance—even though you don’t know how to keep going.
You’ve come so far baby, but you’re still so small
you used to believe in everything now you don’t believe at all.
Stop breaking mirrors, and stop running scared
don’t be afraid of your journey, you’re just getting there,
and those long-hair don’t-care summer days can’t be forever
but that doesn’t mean never.
And whenever you’re aching
I hope that you see
you’ve always been the brightest star
in a world of nightmares to me.
You’re honest with everyone except for yourself,
you’re telling these lies that break your own heart
you pull everyone up, but you’re falling apart
flash those pearlies and flex that muscle
keep moving forward, keep on the hustle,
you’re braver than you think, you can hang on a little longer
and if you feel like letting go, think of me, and be a little stronger
and darling,
you know that I see,
you’ve always been the brightest star
in a world of darkness to me.
I know what it feels like, the burn of hot tears
the sting of betrayal, the worst of your fears
come to life. I see you outside lookin’ up at the clouds
waiting for superman come right on down
and save you from your failures, save you from your past
but you know those young daydreams aren’t meant to last,
you’re a better hero to yourself any day
and you’re always in my thoughts, even when I’m far away
please believe those words,
I want you to see,
you’ve always been the brightest star
in a world of darkness to me.
Chocolate saxophones and the rough timbered edge
of downbeats, bare feets. the drum chuckles
Echoing inside the hardwood corners of the floor
And more than that—
but you were the only thing I noticed from 8:37pm
to 11 sharp; you didn’t leave the dance floor once.
Much more than muscle moving, making me
mash miserable fingers into the tablecloth’s weave,
I believe you were dancing for me. When that rhythm
struck, I bit my bottom lip as sweat dripped from yours,
you fucked that hardwood floor with all the sincerity
of a saint, and—right there, double bass violin crescendo
lifting your shirt up, flashing racked, stacked six-pack
toe twist, shimmy, shake and wink your baby brown
eyes, no other guy is as good as you. I wish when you
smoothed those calloused finger pads against my shoulder
in silent invitation to follow your feet and press my
body against yours so we fit like puzzle pieces, palm
to my stomach, hips behind my hips, back me up against
a wall so I don’t trip—I was too scared to say yes.
But the way you make magic out of nothing but
toes, polished wood, hard ridges of muscle, deep breaths
and balance; is making me forget myself. If you promise
not to let me go, to fit those knees inside mine, to throw
that muscle around and make me a good dancer when
I’m not. Ask me to dance, I like you enough to forget my fear.
1.
your calves are soft-ball sized
and freshly showered
why are you still working out?
2.
I left the window
open as I left
yes, I know,
but the sun crept
up into your eyebrows and tufts
of don’t care hair
and I was too selfish to ruin the view.
3.
Testing my endurance, he climbs up
covers my lips with his mouth
and dares me to keep breathing.
4.
Make room on your desk
I’ll be back tonight—
you’re my second job, we go 9 to 5
pm to am.
5.
If I ask, will you kiss me good night?
I love you like
a kaleidoscope
it’s different every time.
