Permanence

Cut me from marble 
and put me in your home 
look at me 
as the world burns 
like it has so many times before 

sing to me in the quiet hours 
and carve me a smile 
when you feel sad 
tell me it will be okay 
even when it is not 

scream at me your rage 
forgive the sins of those 
who think going to church 
holds the answers 

make me permanent 
please do not forget me 
please 
cut me from marble. 



     Unfulfillable 

The girl without a mother 
is a gun 
with no place to rest
volatile 

she gives 
and can not receive 
always empty
she tries too hard 
she is called brave 
when all she did
was survive 

The girl without a mother 
can not see her own beauty 
or shave her legs 
without nicking her ankle 
but the pain is welcome 
comforting 
flourishing in storms 
is most familiar 

The girl without a mother 
is quiet 
but she wasn't always
she used to scream 
and want to be seen 
to no avail - 
she weaponizes her 
unheard cries 

because you can't 
hurt me 
if I 
hurt myself 
first 

You could never 
tell me things 
I have not said myself.


The girl without a mother 
will always have 
a hole in her heart
because it has been there 
from the start.

The girl without a mother 
is really like no other
she eats poetry for lunch
and sobs for dinner.




 A Silence So Loud

a rock in my throat
tightness in my chest 
it often goes unnoticed 
it is most noticed 
in the brief moments 
of its absence 

my anxiety is a warm blanket
protective 

the lady upstairs singing
loud and bad
it is her day off 
I wonder if she feels 
a rock in her throat too

the noise in Los Angeles 
a constant humming 
but usually more 

sirens, honks, yelling, the train 

I do enjoy hearing the train
specifically in my home 
I wonder where everyone is going
I hope someone is voyaging on 
the first day of their new life 
perhaps 

you can always start over 
the internet has us forget that
I am not on social media 
it hurts too much
the irony 
what intended to connect people 
has done quite the opposite 

people in the elevator 
playing their noises 
face to a screen 
wanting to be seen 
wanting to be heard 
getting further from humanity 
iPad kids all of them, I deem

my heart breaks for humanity 
everyday

do these people know themselves 
can they sit in silence 
without consuming 

my thoughts often consume me 
until I get hungry enough 
to swallow them whole 

what has happened to 
humanity's appetite?



     What the Soul Knows 

Things are rarely what they seem
a broken bottle's origin story
the intention versus the outcome 
my father's misplaced anger 
rage at the cat for saying 
you got too close 

intention rarely matters 
interpretation matters a lot 
and it is subject to change 

Your hands were the first thing 
I remembered 
they are much like my father's 
except yours are softer

I wonder what I was doing 
at the time you tried to commit 
wishing on a shooting star
metal to your head
you were always my wish 
don't you fucking dare 
every birthday candle 
every coin in a fountain 
every fallen eyelash 
every 11:11 
it could have all been 
gone 

we had not met yet
but I was with you that night