I hear my body & my neighbour’s breaking,
creaking open like an old book, burrowing space &
humming the sound of a hand brushing cloth.

Love can’t burn—burn away, that is—
there’s always something left at the end
to remind you that death isn’t your fault.

I’d never been outside at night

to drink a sky of blueberry tea, and then

I see the moon & take a toothless bite.

“I love your style” 

with the kindest furrowed brow smile

I’d felt loved by in a long while.  

Our poem today is a Tanka, so it’s quite short.

If the world feels a carnival

go against the grain:

slow & steady are more than okay.

And I wondered,

what if birthdays were every day

rather than once a year?

I grit my teeth with the blessing

to be gifted or gene-granted or God-given

their imagination

so that one day, on

one of these evenings, 

I may be able to save them

My first time feeling

alive, if for a moment in time,

because safety isn’t a synonym for sharing

our shelter’s location or the combination lock to our boxes

of all-embracing joy & love.

and I didn’t know three words
could make me feel seen
in a way I’d never been.

You see, I know I’m wrong

but the letters in the word ‘ego’

swirl like snail shells

The greatest gift
you can receive or bestow
(upon anyone or anything)
is to be believed in.

that you don’t have words
to tell them 

what it meant for them 

to be excited to see you
after all this time
when the version of you they 

know best is still a teenager—

the kid your shame clings to;

Perhaps there was a bully

and you stood up to them 

for someone else when 

you couldn’t for yourself.

Or maybe you didn’t but 

hitchhiked for your paper 

route for safety. 

Both are brave.

I just stood there, trying not to 

let embarrassment overtake

the heartbreak

on my face

as people passed by me.

What if hindsight isn’t twenty-twenty?

Never forget how that year wounded us.

So it is more like my soft eyes without

glasses or contacts—negative sevens.

I set my coffee down, 

turned toward the counter,

looked directly at Frankie 

and said, “I need 3 knives 

that will work like pick axes.”

When I hiked through my front door after the first
four-month block away, I noticed I’d split in 

half. I’d changed & grown. But home? It hadn’t, no. 

What I mean is, 

sometimes no smile means you’ve caught humans 

loving the very very most that they can.

And, I wish Mama & Dada knew

that we knew.