Travelers

You were never
my North Star

but a fellow traveler
a cheerful companion

who held my hand
on a rocky path

who sang me songs
to pass the time

and kissed my cheeks
so sweetly

that I almost forgot
that your destination

was never the same
as my own

Sweet sleep

We lie
facing apart
toes touching

the warmth
of your
big spoon

clinging to
my skin
like our

tangled bedsheets


--

April PAD - Poetic Asides Day 7: senses

Go to your room

I used to wish my
father would die
now I realize that living
is punishment enough

--

April PAD - Poetic Asides Day 8: family

He persisted

It was another good date
We went back to his place
I pulled him close

we kissed
we groped
we fumbled

It was a good time
Until things went too far
I pushed him away

he groped
he fumbled
he persisted

It was no longer a good date
Back at his place
He pulled my legs apart

I fumbled
I flailed
I cried

he persisted

--

April PAD Poetic Asides Day 3 - stop / don't stop

IQ test

"Oh, you're a smart girl,"
he said, as
if I was somehow less

attractive because of my intelligence.
"I guess so,"
I said and walked away.

--

April PAD Day 5 - Poetic Asides prompt: intelligence

Blooming

we bloom in secret, stretching
our faces closer
to the sun each day

--

April PAD Poetic Asides Day 1 - secret

Casing the joint

I sneak
I watch
from the outside
from afar

I look through pictures
I look through junk
to catch a glimpse
to understand

the woman in the mirror

--

April PAD Poetic Asides Day 4 - case (blank)

Aphrodite

Her soft belly

and sagging breasts

adorn museum walls

we scurry

past embarrassed by

her audacity to

be fat and

adored, a diety

whose gifts we

scorn because we

have forgotten how

to love our

own bodies, preferring 

to chisel away 

our curves for 

the hard angles 

that look better

on Instagram

—
April PAD Poetic Asides Day 2 - portrait

Grounded

the crows outside my window
know I feed
my dog at 8 a.m.

every morning they show up
to nibble the
leftover kibble and laugh at

the grounded little lives we
choose inside the
worry, the routine, the glass

prisons we call home, cars,
restaurants, and offices,
never learning to fly free

Savage

Crazy means
believing your
sorry ass
belongs in
this country
because your
light-skinned
forefathers illegally
immigrated to
a land
in which
civilized nations
could be
slaughtered by
smallpox and
pistols and
broken promises
simply for
being here
first