There is nothing happier than a puzzle that’s solved

But puzzles are meant to be pulled apart and put back together

Over and over

And I promise you

The puzzle knows that

But god damn it, the puzzle loves feeling all its edges

And center pieces filled in

It screams see, see! I was a beautiful picture

The whole time

Thank you

Thank you for taking the time

To figure me out

Now show your cousins how happy I made you

And pull me apart again

Solve me again

I promise I’m challenging

Every damn time

In a different way

Erase Her

She collected erasers and kept them

In a small tin box under her bed

Thick grey ovals and rich pink rectangles

Graphite tarnished or pristine

Some that looked like little creatures

Or rich full fruit

Arranged so delicately

Little rolled lints of rubber flecking the bottom

Of the small tin box

Silently, with every new addition, she would

Rearrange them making a space

For the new small blue, big yellow or slightly used unicorn

So satisfied with the smooth density

Her tin box was heavy

With her ability to correct any mistake

She kept them all safe

Her little fingers lingering on the box lid

As she slides it back under her bed

We used to have four legs

We were joined, whole in our togetherness

Until some petulant gods split us in two

Now our lives come down to; how do you travel home?

Odysseus traveled home for ten years

Time looming, Penelope waiting

Their bed growing, anchored in the earth

But he traveled persistently

Battling endlessly

His north of love never faltered

But sometimes I know if the connecting flight gets delayed

The Airport hotel is as good a place as any to stay a few days

So tired of trying to get home

There’s wifi here and hot water

All these sirens singing

Even my heart occasionally

After a terrible date

After another engagement photo

Beats me to rest a bit

That is not how I travel home

I know there is a north for me

My Penelope I haven’t met

My bed grows every day

My ship, or plane will be delayed

But I will travel home always

So that our four legs can truly rest

4 Simple Rules… for dating the wrong man

1. Even if you want to sleep with him right away, don’t. Make him wait. Like a rock in a river. Wash over him, run through his mind and wear him so smooth that he won’t cut you when you fall. Wear him so smooth that he’s no longer a rock at all.
2. Do not tell him about your broken engagement, about the pain you crave, about your tiny ribs being crushed under the weight of a man much larger and how that was the last time you felt truly loved. Those stories you long to tell, the luxury of lying next to someone and being completely naked, keep that to yourself.
3. Don’t ask what he wants. You know. He wants to devour you whole and blame you for being too full. He wants to be engorged on you, you must titrate. Your body, questions, your time… don’t ask him what he wants. You. All at once and then none at all.
4. Be hopeful but hopeless, you must always climb only to fall. 

I often forget what country I’m in

What language I should be speaking

Do I drop the possession of my own body,

In deference to your sense of owner ship over it?

Is the proper greeting “I’m sorry” in the feminine?

I never learned how to ask for food in this language

So I’ve been starving in the land of men

Sucking on lollipops and catcalls

I read Lolita in the wrong language again

The language of little girls devouring themselves

Don’t rub me like a bobby pin; I am not an object of worry

or adornment

I am not rigid; my rib cage is for your protection

And when I speak the language of my body

My native beats and swells

I do not need to ask permission

All the food I find is mine

The language of my body, well fed and free

Creates armies, more bodies and new words

Everything is born in my country 

In that low bright light

That cuts through the leaves last cry

The crisp air amplifies lingering scents

Of wood smoke, wet earth, apple rot

I feel the lack of you

A memory I don’t have yet

 The cold on my neck where a thumb will be

It is not lonely

You can’t be lonely for someone you haven’t met

But I swear there is a second set of steps

In that dead grass

So I look back but I know it’s really

A head, through the turning leaves

Through an undetermined amount of seasons

I can remember you though, forward through time

Like the trees remember to fall in fall

And that there is always more life ahead

Off beat Haiku

Everything sustaining

you do over and over

only the dead lie down

And again I run to the same cliff

I find it in every heart and move swiftly

Towards the fall

It is the woods I know

Loneliness, all trees and low ferns

I am comfortable in the underbrush

It is always the cliffs and the kitchen knives

That pull me out

There is beauty and functionality

But I always rush towards

The edge

And I hate that they say love is like falling

Because really love is like climbing

I don’t know where to put my hands

As I rise out of the canopy of loneliness

Overcoming a fear of heights

For the beauty of the view

But I arrive often from the woods

To a cliff

After no climb

And the bird that lives in my rib cage

Tells me we can still fly

There is no falling or flying in love

Only foot holds and acceptance

Of the face of this earth as it is

The rise and fall of my heart as it is

You always say that you are broke and busy

When you want forgiveness

Like poverty and panic make you sympathetic

My sympathy is expensive

And your fake tragedy is a middle school play’s

Worth of drama, over done and over cast

You set the stage and I can see your white sneakers

You lead with screaming and bravado

For nothing

The is a spot light on the chorus and

I’m only here out of love

My sympathy could be won easily

With the most expensive thing

Time and attention the diamond and gold

Of love, what bought the tickets and brought me here

But you give me your card board cut out

And tell me its tragedy

It’s too easy

Comedy is hard darling

It’s why I always laugh at you

"One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple."

— Jack Kerouac, Dharma Burns. 

I’m sorry it’s so hard. 

It’s ok.

Let it out.

My love.

That is too much for one person.

Let me help you.

Let me hold you.

I want nothing more than to be alone with you.

I forgive you.

Give me your hand.

I should have noticed.

You are perfect just the way you are.

I will protect you.