south

i know nothing
of song birds-- 
& for you 
my body flushes-- 
feather
& feather & feather
silhouettes--
all these bodies
within me--
did you know
you were
in love with
a formation?
early dusk disperses 
me into a flock
of cranes--
how far south will 
i fly this
winter & will
you follow me when
i do?
what do you
know of containing
millions--
oscillating 
& fluttering
apart-- follow
our feathers  as we
go-- keep
them in your pockets--
black black feathers--
bodies beating--
all my hair stands on
end & i'm on
my back waiting
for
the bottom
of the cloud to
fall out from under me--
i looked out
the window
to see myself
resting in the 
backyard-- there's miles
to fly before 
the earth turns truly
cold-- 
how far would 
you fly to feel warm
again?
& when you move
closer
to touch me i 
draw back-- call
of the common crane
aching in my
hollow bones--
each beak dug
deep into my chest--
you don't know what
your do to me--
how far i scatter
when you approach 
us-- how many
feathers i drop
for you to notice
i'm disseminating 
myself across
this highway--
i want you to drive
home at night--
my crane-call repeating
in your rear view mirror--
my body flushing--
arranging arrow
shape above
you-- orienting
south ignoring
the fury of
the winter sun-- so red
& lustful & brief--
what will you
do when i pull myself
back together?
will you come closer
again-- pick me
up in your arms
& keep me from migrating--
there are so many
pieces of myself
that want to fly 
south-- away from
the throbbing of
my heart-- each wing
a separate pang 
of yearning--
how do we know
how to fracture
& still keep shape--
i want to be
an arrow-- for
your to look
up to when you
are on the highway
& thinking maybe
you'll think
about loving me
& maybe next
time
when you move towards
me in the dark of
my room
i won't flush &
fade so abruptly--
& if i do 
collect
my black sihlouttes
from the bedroom
walls-- 
my body a stained
glass sky--
piece me together 
there-- feather
by feather--
oh do you know
how warm 
we could
be?

for a closer look at god

i stole my father's
ladder from the garage--
remembered his
warning
to never stand 
on top-- there
i am again a 7
year old girl-- paint roller
in hand as my father 
put together the sky
one roll of white
primer at a time--
he let me climb the ladder
up to the 2nd step
to marvel at his work--
what did i see
in that white sky?
audacious clouds-- 
shifting--churning--
i asked him
why the clouds
had to change so fast 
& he took his brush &
slathered purple
& red to make
me a sunset--
he painted
saying that the sky
was the first place
we search for
god's face & the last 
place to find it--
& here in my back yard
i set up my father's
yellow-stepped ladder--
wobbly from 
the damp earth--
ladder getting taller--
each step grews another
& soon i'm up above
the tree line--
gazing down 
on the roof of my house--
tiles resembling
the scales of a great
lizard-- 
the beast turns over 
& there 
i sleep white belly
towards the moon--
air thins
& i clutch the 
steel rungs--
sway with the breeze--
i think about
what the face of
god might look like--
in front us
rows of sunday-school 
children--
Sister
Katherine sat
on a wooden chair &
pointed 
at us & saying
YOU are made in
his image-- each 
& everyone one of
you--
i surveyed myself--
sitting criss-cross
applesauce-- my warm
white tights--
blue dress-- soft brown
hair down to my shoulders--
there he is,
God
as always-- was a
7 seven year old girl--
day dreaming
as the words 
of the gospel
spilled over her--
she felt the language
flutter
in her body like
minnows-- she smiled
& thought
about the story of
lazarus & how
even if she
were to die today
that God would
come down from her father's
step ladder & 
bring her back to
life--
his touch adding
step after
step to the ladder
his face still
getting farther &
farther away--
i stop to rest 
in my 21 year old
body-- looming
over my town--
the lights on each
street
so far away that
the earth became
a mirror of the sky--
there-- there's
the big dipper 
scooping ladles 
full of traffic lights--
dumping them
into the grass--
oh, god i came
up here to see
you & now look
how high up 
i am-- i again
think of the story
of lazarus &
how if i were to
let go & fall
that god might 
come down
the ladder & command  
me to rise--
i don't temp him--
i descend
rung by rung 
until i step down
again on
the dewy grass--
by then it was morning--
i folded the ladder into
my trunk & 
peered back up
at the clouds 
to watch them 
change-- 

no signal 

ring my screen
black-- there
i am dissolving
in the high beams of
my green volvo-- when 
did we all become
so alone?
so easily disbanded?
i was tethered 
like we all were--
dangling at the mercy
of space--
oh my love
how i wish 
your were here
to ride home with me--
your voice a caravan
of stars--
i drive home 
through 
the mountains
the trees stretching
taller-- growing
cracked fingers &
ribs-- laughing--
i watched
as they stole the sky--
dug in their nails--
the forest 
where
the darkness 
is bold
enough to wear 
a voice &
where the deer wander
diamond-eyed 
in the road-- their
stare defined & humanoid--
i pull over--
cell phone screen
gone
black-- the creek
with a body of a 
siren-- she sings 
a restless moon
song & the deer follows
his mother--
twig snap
but oh then there
is no ground
beneath me &
satellites cannot
find me & if god
isn't watching
from his orbit who
is? there 
at the mercy of
the trees laughing 
fingers i feel my
name evaporate-- fog
the car windows--
i wiped them
clear with my sleeve--
left hand prints
on the glass
in an attempt
to remember
what you call me--
& my knuckles
knotted like
oak knees & 
there was nothing
left but darkness
holding me-- the 
fur on my neck
standing up-- cradled
i buckled & curled
into myself--
opened my mouth
to beg for a star
to recognize what
i had become-- 
diamond-eyed child
of hooves & 
the unknown-- 
this is home now--
this is where i detached
from the mothering
eyes of my satellites--
the road a hologram 
to keep me from
falling in love
with the darkness of
my own fur--
bend down with me
& drink from
the cold waters of
this creek with no
name-- winter
sobbing into stone--
when you find
me drive
slowly-- listen
to the sound of
your feet leaving
the ground--
or of course you
could stay inside
your car & trust
your mother's skirt
hem-- grab on
for the ride-- keep
going until you find 
a street light-- your
phone a glow
against
your face-- the whites
of your eyes grasping
at a sliver of moon--
i came back of course
somehow-- my name
tasting
wrongly in my
mouth-- the road 
driving me-- 
imitating the insides
of my bones-- marrow-
night-- the highway
a sharp inhale--
distrusting
the ground beneath me
i climb the stairs  
back up to my room--
tuck my knees
into my chest & 
lay in bed-- the 
crooked fingers 
of the trees pressed
up against the window
they want me 
back-- they want me back
i take out my eyes
& set them by
the bed

pardon me 

pardon my white
meat thighs-- dry
& sliced in 
the crystal 
serving dish-- 
dark meat hiding
in my shadow
where the knife can't
find it--
oh come here & be 
thankful with me--
say 
dear lord
thank you for
making me a colonizer--
& pardon the second
graders sitting
on the carpeted floor
as construction-paper
pilgrims & indians--
eat the corn bread
& pardon the crumbs--
we tie
strings to our
gods & march--
pardon the city
for being so
dirty & pardon our
bodies for
hunger-- this is
the one day we're
allowed to be
hungry--unless
of course you're
a girl
then you've come
here to pardon
your hunger--
oh but in the
end at least
we pardon one
turkey right? 
there is hope
in forks & knives
& maybe this
year we'll get out
the good china-- 
baste me-- i crouch
coiled in the oven--
i remember
ever feather stripped
from my flesh--
here i am:
pink & pardoned--
how many hours left 
to roast?
we'll pray for snow
so & pray for
christmas-light hail--
a muffled secular
hymn being muttered
by the clouds--
we'll go out
there in the back
yard-- fill our hands 
with lights
to hang on the front
porch so everyone
will know 
we've been pardoned--
oh pass over
us angel 
of death-- 
my white meat is
dry-- i left
my shadow in the top
drawer of my dresser 
surely there's someone
else to lacerate
this year-- i
swear i swear
i've been pardoned--
father--
now take me out
to the back yard
where the ghosts
of christmas trees
have started
congregating--
we'll throw 
a football & get
grass on our knees
before dinner--
oh i'll ask you
to pardon my queer
blood & you'll pretend
not to hear me--
i'll catch my
dead name every time 
you say it--
grab letter
by letter & dig
dirt-under-nails
to bury it under
the evergreen tree--
oh pardon me 
your son 
has five more
hours
left in the oven
but the mashed potatoes 
are ready &
the soup in 
bubbling on
the stove-- oh pardon
me pardon me
pardon me for
being unable to
hide enough
of myself in the drawer
of my dresser at home--
oh let's get
together
& all list 10 things
we're thankful for--
i'll start:
1. a body vast
enough to hold shadows
2. a god full of helium
3. ropes to hold
him down
4. the oven door
5. the good china &
meat sliced on top
6. the inevitable
pardoning of one turkey
as if mercy were fickle
like that
7. the hope
that they choose me
8. the hope that 
they choose someone
else more deserving
pluck out
my feathers one 
at a time
9. roast me in oven
10. lay me down
on the good china 

my abacus rib cage

how many
calories are in
the sun?
i've been thinking
that maybe there's
enough to finally 
free me--
fork & knife
slice by fire-slice--
i keep thinking
maybe if i eat
enough i will
stop seeing everything
as a numbers-- 
you-- the number 
28-- it's written
across your thighs
i'm caught there in
your figure-eight--
let's lay on
our sides
so 8 can become ∞ 
infinity-- 
i didn't meant force
you into being infinite
just for me--
6-- the number
of scares still visible
on my left forearm--
some still with scabs--
3 the number of
times this week i have
wanted to subtract 
from my body-- this isn't
your average number poem--
this is a prayer to
consume the sun--
burn plastic spoons
in the atmosphere--
are there enough calories
in the sun?
80-- an apple-- who
sucked sun ray after
sun ray-- 
pears are between 100 
& 120-- their sugars
swelling-- soft--
7 the number of days
a week i wake up
with a moth
as a heart-- yes i've
said that before
but as we speak
it's wings are pulsing
105 times a minute--
105 guesses at 
the number of stars
who could
fit on my bed room ceiling
how many calories do 
i burn just counting
this world each day?
how many number have
i yet to encounter?
the abacus beads
are on my rib cage--
when you touch me
i count-- 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
the number of fingers on
my skin--
here hold
the ladder steady 
i'm going to eat
now-- i'm going to
eat every number
so they can no
longer speak to me
& 60% of me is supposedly 
water so maybe
60% of me is oceans &
maybe when i fall
from eating the sun 
i will make a great big
splash inside
of myself-- a space shuttle
landing in the atlantic
of my own chest--
bead by bead-- don't
5, forget to count
the coffee you drank this
morning 
92.96 million miles 
to reach the sun's
flushed face-- 
i tell god that
i'm going to do it--
that i'm going to
be brave & eat
the whole entire sun--
spoon clenched in
my fist i hug
the ladder rung--
sobbing-- tears
becoming comets--
1, 2, 3 enter orbit--
i say
i'm sorry 
i'm so sorry
i thought i could 
do it this time--
& the sun weeps
with my
& turns over for
the night--
when i reach earth
again you
hold me & we count
each other's ribs 
24-- between us 48--
oh abacus love
me into the thousands--
the light years--
if i would have done
it-- if i would
have eaten the sun--
think of how
many light years
i would contain-- 
i say 
someday--
someday before
the supernova i'll
climb
back up there
fork & knife & 
my silver spoon &
eat all the numbers
away 
you kiss me 9 times
& tell me that
your believe me--
i'm 5 tall &
∞ wide &
when i lay down to
sleep & stretch
out my fingers
i can reach my hands
behind my
back & hold
the entire circumference 
of the earth 
all 24,901 miles--
24 the number
of hours with numbers--
count backwards from
100 with me 
& fall asleep
to the sound of 
my moth 
wing beat &
the tender
weeping 
of the sun

you tell me again
that 
we must have
crossed paths-- must
have seen each other
before-- 
maybe that was me
one aisle away from
you in a Target
buying soup spoons
or maybe it was me
behind
you in line at 
Subway-- 
surveying the menu
as if i might order
something different
than i always do
what would you
have thought of that
girl?
we pass so many
people we could
fall in love with--
our skin sometimes
inches from
touching-- oh 
if i would have brushed
by you in cafe 
or a street corner
in Philly i think
i would have known 
then-- 
there
is a kind of knowing
that comes 
with skin--
when i met you
i wanted to hold
the sound of your
voice
cupped in my hands
& every 
i love you
meant your name--
meant our shadows
on my walls
meant skin & breath--
your skin on my skin
my fingers through
your dark brown hair--
i have been wading
into loving you 
all the while 
my skin aches 
& tells me to reach out--
trace across your
shoulders--
kiss your neck
then your ears &
your forehead--
if you would
have known me in high
school we might
not have ever
talked-- you might
have seen me
the girl with blue
hair & match stick
burns
on her forearms--
writing poetry
in a brown leather
notebook 
& i would have seen
you a boy with 
melodies sewn
in his hands--
oh my skin would
have known you
if we had brushed 
past each
other-- 
i call it electric--
the way 
kissing 
you feels like
the only language 
left to speak--
i'm wading
into loving
you 
& coming up 
from air--
when i say
i'm scared of
loving you 
i mean it's
there in my skin--
water up to my neck 
i don't know
how i could
ever stop
seeing the
sound of your
voice--
hearing your
skin spark--
on mine--
i don't
put people's
names in poems
but here
yours is 
love oh love
oh love
i see you
shutter--

here it comes--
heart snapping
branches--ribs--
i learn to re-swallow
bone-- oh why did
he have to come for this
here it comes--
here he comes for 
my poetry-- 
the only part of 
my skin
i have never wanted
to cut-- her 
he comes-- drawing
a line in marker
around my neck--
he says write
here write here
this is where to start
your next poem--
he says
to get up
& write
your bones
back into place--
this is what you 
do-- girl of
letters & numbers
& ampersands &
em-dashes-- faster
now faster--
write for me girl--
your body is nothing
but water--
a mason jar 
in the cabinet
full of everyone
else's words--
there what else will
you do-- what else
could you ever hope
to say--
write a poem for
me girl--
write

where did we park the car?

meander is a word
that tastes like dusk-- 
we parked the car
somewhere near 
the number 17
pinned to a lamp post--
what if we never find it?
walk parking space to 
parking space 
read license plates--
we forget each other's
names-- naturally
as you begin to loose
everything once you become
aware that you are dislocated--
the sensation of falling
sets in & 
i want to ask
the boy walking with
me if his name is Billy
& if he's my brother but
i'm also frightened
that i don't know him at
all-- that it was just me
who lost his car in the parking
lot & the lamps
go out one by one 
as if to give up on
me & my search
for the road home--
what happened to 
the road?
what was i doing here
anyway? a zoo?
an amusement park?
we came here to the parking
lot to 
get out of our bodies
for a little--
to peel up highway
veins from paper map--
there he is that's god--
un-threading me--
un-stiched & coming
undone in the parking
lot-- shadow
giant walking--
i shake the earth
with my massive form--
this is the kind
of earth quake that there
is no hiding from--
one that breaks the earth
like a host of bread--
this is my body
this is my body 
break this in memory
of me--
in memory of parking
spaces-- in memory 
of birthday cards in 
my glove box-- her
name his name--
this is another
poem where i write 
the word 'body'
over & over again
in attempt 
to figure out what it
means-- as if i could
speak that word enough
times to find my way
back to my own--
my body is vapor
& asphalt--
hot hot hot by the sun--
burn your feet on
me when he takes 
your shoes--
this is me in the parking
lot walking back to
my body-- gripping
the steering wheel of
my green volvo alone--
if i had a brother
he was never walking with
me-- when i was 
little i used to wonder
what we would do 
if we couldn't find the
car-- i would image us 
sitting on a curb
as night draped us
with cool air & turned
our shadows into monsters--
we would sleep there
all
together-- maybe in
an empty parking space--
maybe just backs 
against street lamp--
& god would turn them
off one by one
until the only glow 
was the moon 
on our pale skin--
hold my hand 
i would
say to 
Uncle Rich or
Mom or Dad 
hold my hand 
i say 
to myself--
& he does--
laces his cold fingers
in mine & i'm
not sure which of
us owns a body 
& which one of us
is walking back
searching for body or
car or 
parking space--
bolted to the lamp post
we believe in a god
& the number 17

dormant 

oh igneous me--
the fragile rock--
tonight i found myself
empathizing with
Mount St. Helens
cough ask on my
pillow & all the people
ran-- scurrying like
ants-- i tell them to
evacuate their
houses & they claim 
they have been here
for generations & 
have no intention
of moving now just 
because there is
fire
dormant in me--
the act of self destruction
is admirable in
a mountain-- 
so much heat-- so much 
magma-born pain--
what color is 
the fire you swallow
at night before
you sleep?
here i lay growing
higher & higher--
take me for granted
as part of the skyline--
at night when the 
boarder of my
body begin to blur
into dusk
i want you to
purge yourself
of that same fire--
doubled over on your
knees on the tile
floor of the bathroom--
what's it like
having depression?
it's like Mount
St. Helens sobbing--
her body shaking
& her convulsions
are part of
the scenery-- the tourists 
say-- it has
been years since she
erupted
she's dormant
she's dormant--
you can trust her--
look she climbs--
i sweaty-palm grasp
the hem of the
skyline-- i say 
this is unstoppable--
my god my god
Saint Helen mother
of Constantine--
build Rome for me 
& when i detonate
rebuild me pillar
by pillar-- oh Saint
Helen-- of fire of fire--
what do you know
about being a dormant
boy? Was i your son--
constant as Constantine--
bones planted
femur & fibula
to give rise to
the Vatican gardens
where i sit now waiting
for god to
hold me together--
i don't mean
to ask so many people
if they believe in
god-- dormant--
i want to know
there's someone
i can ask to hold off
the fire--
i clutch my stomach--
furnace-- each rib
crackle--burn--
my tongue tastes of
ash & worry--
oh the truth is i have
loved reaching--
i have loved how
you small people
gaze beyond your 
small lives & see me
there stretch my arms
into the night sky--
hold back my hair
while i kneel on
the bathroom floor
magma charred lips--
oh Saint Helen 
of mountain mouth
of ashes--
fall down on  me
here-- i can't
stand being so
high up