Category: Posts
Just Around the Bend
I once wrote a post about a nightmare I had had, and it was up on this site for all of twenty minutes before I deleted it. A friend told me it was too disturbing.
Capable
Salem
In Salem, Massachusetts, there is a courtyard dedicated to the women burned as witches. The grass never grows there. It is encircled by a low wall and lined by two dozen black marble benches, for these bodiless women to sit on, smooth their dresses, reflect, mourn. It looks like here. This shadowed grey courtyard tucked between two buildings in New York.
Forever Prefers
What We Will Do Now
Measuring By Hands
It’s my own fault that I’ve forgotten
what my hands feel like when they’re being held.
You can’t dig your own grave then sue the coffin maker.
I used to think loving others made up for not being loved.
Like having a heart too big to hold between two palms was a
good thing, a proud thing, a noble thing.
I used to think if I kept my head down long enough then one day
I would look up at exactly the right moment,
but never let myself wonder how I’d know that moment when it came.
When you’re only ever staring at your shoes
no one’s gonna fall in love with the top of your head.
When you’re only ever staring at your shoes
you’ll never recognize love by their toes.
Holding your own hand ever only makes your arms tired.
That doesn’t mean I haven’t kept practicing.
Love’s fingers have promised they’ll fit perfectly.
Love’s fingers haven’t tried mine on for size.
poetgoes 