

what’s a few haikus between lovers, my darling?
don't tell me you're scared.
~
if you said right now
you'd change not one part of me,
is this love at all?
~
once, i saw the moon.
she showed me how you broke her
filling in the cracks
~
once, i saw the stars.
they told me not to fear (now
all i see is you).
~
can anybody
say what it means to be a
former friend? tell me.
~
i watched the ocean
try to leave the shore again
and again it failed
~
if only it knew
always i come back to you
falling in repeat
~
have you met my friend?
she sits with me each morning
and evening, that Grief.
~
i think i'll go back
to pretending not to know
your love is finite.
i am doing dishes.
scrub. scrub. scrub.
grip the sink when the wave hits -
this floor will not give out
from under me.
words somehow curl their way
around the sound
of the running water
steam so hot it burns my hands
rubbed raw in my
Mom's friend's kitchen sink
"It sucks that we
have to learn to think
this way-"
scrub harder. hold the tears.
glasses fogged from heat, good.
this is not about you.
pull it together.
"- I mean, I had parked on the driveway but she
made me park on the street
so we can't be blocked in.
I didn't even think-"
rinse coffee grinds right down the drain
cool water joins to soothe the burn -
i am not
twenty four
any longer.
i am seven.
i am doing dishes.
no, i am nineteen.
i have just been told
one week ago
to have a nice life
by one who was supposed
to be there.
i am nineteen
and i have been kicked out
on the eve before the lockdown
for a global pandemic
and
i am not twenty-four.
i am nineteen.
and i have walked into the kitchen and i have walked into the kitchen
of my father's second ex-wife
and i greet the kids
and make myself useful
because that is what i do.
even while my boyfriend whispers with her,
and when he comes to say goodbye;
i am busy doing dishes.
wash it all away.
scrub harder until i forget
because all I feel is soap and dishwater
and the sting from the heat,
all I see is the steam and the piles and piles
one problem I can solve.
this, I can do.
I can do the dishes.
the world could end
but at least I would know the peace
of a clean kitchen sink,
first.
mom's friend hasn't slept.
but that is why we're here -
to help, to feed, to be Together.
we know
domestic violence
intimately,
deeply.
but sometimes
the very best thing
that anyone could do
is to step in and take charge.
so we are here with hot food
set out dinner
they are talking
over cheesecake
(hold the wine).
and i am doing dishes.
Dynamic
"I've always been more into rewards than punishment."
"That's fair. I do deserve all the rewards."
"Yes, yes you do."
I laugh. I was joking when I said it. Then it hits me that he's not.
Amazing, isn't it, how quickly laughter turns to tears? ~I have never known anyone who sees me like you do.~
everyone says
that love will take you by surprise
but they are wrong.
you took me by surprise,
or you would have if not for
the fact that you knew
not to rush it
to take our time
and it forced us to evolve
bit by bit together
so no, you did not
surprise me
because I have seen you
from the start
and you have known me
slowly, and deeply
and to know that
i love you
is no surprise to me -
none at all.
because you made sure
from the start
that there would be
no surprises.
and that is
the best part of all.
selective empathy
if I told you that I had the flu
you'd tell me to go home.
but why is it
when I tell you I am flaring
with my illnesses
you neither see nor understand
you see fit
to decide
whether my suffering
is worthy enough
to be acknowledged
by way of judgement,
and doubt,
and choruses of
"you dont look sick" ?
why do you have empathy
when injury and illness
are acute
and not
when they are permanent?
just because
we handle it daily
that
does not mean
it
hurts
any
less.
lanternflies
one time
i was walking
and i saw it
sitting there on the sidewalk
as if it belonged
and I couldn't quite believe my eyes
there it was, in front of me.
grey wings, black spots
red body, blue underneath
invasive species
that did not exist in this place
not according to the state
and I did what I knew I needed to
raised my foot
brought it down
bracing for the crunch
and it jumped, so
I had to try again -
success. the moth was no more.
and I kept walking
like a fool, almost proud
to have seen my first one
and sad to have had to kill it
because it'd been so beautiful.
then I looked up from my feet
and saw a dozen more
crawling on brick pillars
and concrete of the sidewalk
taking over the veranda
and I could not kill them all
because of what people might think
so I casually stomped two or four
more that were unlucky enough
to be within my reach of walking
stride. and pulled out my phone
to document the numbers for
the record to report the lanternflies,
the invasion, to the state
how could I have called them pretty?
now I saw through the façade.
they didn't belong here.
much like me, they would
wreak havok in environments
not their own, blow
through trees and disrupt cycles
of feeding, bring disease -
altogether, spell disaster.
they would become a plague.
they had to be controlled.
they could not simply stay.
they needed to go home.
like me, I realized.
I'd thought I this *was* my home.
but there's nothing here for me to find;
just death beneath a sole.
summertime
if only you hadn't left your drink
sitting there on the balcony
in hot, carolina heat
sweating, swirling with the pulp,
beads of perspiration
counting the seconds
like a clock -
then maybe
when you lost it
and your temper finally snapped
and your hand slipped and
the knife thudded to the deck,
the drops of blood
wouldn't have dripped
dripped
dripped
right into the glass
with the striped paper straw
and the long-melted ice
and I would not have looked down
and seen my own life
blossom and bloom in the glass
and I would not have
any reason to hate
pink lemonade
or any lemonade,
the way that I do now.