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--
11/24
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
11/23
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
11/22
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
skin
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
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
11/21
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
11/20
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
11/19
the sky is blue how many people have told you why the sky is blue? it's the ocean of course-- her mirror hanging above us--she touches her face-- concealer & blush & black winged eye-liner flying south for the winter-- gossip of the geese-- at night-- covering her face with a black veil-- she sobs-- eye-liner down her cheeks she breaks at the sand bar & weeps i'm ugly i'm ugly i'm ugly & i perch-- bare feet-- wet sand & i tell her that at night no one really has a face-- i show her mine-- blank in the rays off the moon-- ocean spray caress-- thumbs across my cheeks-- she says God was cruel to give us reflections & i try to see myself in her water-- kelp-- shattered shells-- ripple on ripple-- she is making the sky too dark-- i'm relieved to not have a mirror-- they're so easy to trip into-- i see the one in my bathroom-- fingers on glass-- glass becoming water-- the mirror who makes a face for you to wear-- i wade in-- cold in her teeth-- she refuses to smile & the moon watches her figure frolicking through waves-- the moon slips & drops her reflection underwater-- plummeting-- glowing beneath the ocean's skin she asks if everyone is beautiful in the morning & i tell her that the tide is coming in-- up to my waist-- i tell her that the sky is blue because of her & she blushes until the dolphins bring back the moon's reflection & the sun mirror laughs herself above us-- beaming up at herself the ocean remembers the sky blue & i remember my freckles in the bathroom mirror-- she remembers loud enough to cox out the clouds-- she whispers blue is the first name i was given-- the first sound i made when i gazed up to see myself-- i follow the shoreline-- collecting shells in my pockets as a way to prove i remembered you while i was walking-- what is love but the act of persistent memory-- of searching for a blue sky to wash your faces in-- i trace the horizon to the point where heaven & the ocean touch-- their fingers intertwined-- mouth on glass-- what do we make of the sunset then? you're beautiful you're beautiful don't bother with mirrors i whisper into a swell-- she blushes golden-- purple-red-indigo-- yes please tell me why the sky is blue-- she's open to suggestions
11/18
rook black-white black-white my chest was the chess board & you knew which squares you belonged on-- what is your strategy then? do you trust in the pawns? their short hair & daggers tucker into their heads-- see metal-- step slowly-- they are prone to breaking twigs & dying with out breath-- or do you move the knights-- you always were a sideways boy-- what use is the ground when you're a made of armor-- no skin underneath-- trust our subjects to swallow our blood from each square-- what other statues would you trust with your own heart beat? there something about playing chess that makes you smaller-- the size of a square cut out of my own chest-- cannon shot-- hoof pounding on tile-- what a quiet quiet war we're in-- what a loud way to trade blood-- there's something about chess that snaps the arms off the time-- ties the sun to a cloud-- eyes open-- step here-- i want to know how you will navigate each square of my body-- what do you know about chess anyway? what do you know about the rook? there's no where left to go but to climb-- these thick & sturdy walls-- these stones arm in arm-- a boy like me-- there is no door to the inside of the castle-- war turns inside out-- hollow-- the world-- nothing but a wrist-- an ankle-- an arrow breaking the glass of my bedroom window-- that's why i trust the rooks of this world-- the tower the marquess-- the rector-- how many boys like us have sat down & made their love//blood black-white white-black i always pick the black pieces because i don't mind waiting to see what you do first-- i have a tendency to thrust love onto the chess board jump over me-- sword-bitten queens-- oh haven't you always been a bishop though? our only union is one of our deaths-- this is what it's like to be gods-- two rows of bodies-- dead pawns--body on body on body-- they were just another fortress & from inside the rook i move forever in a striaght line-- a clear marked direction-- squares beneath me black-white-black-- & when the chess board ends-- change direction-- you'll never find me here-- the only doorway is my mouth-- checkmate-- yes checkmate-- there will be king after king after king but long after he is dead-- his castle remains-- coasting quietly in a singular deadly line-- marked across my chest-- & i'll be inside-- the god waiting in his castle-- a wrist-- an ankle-- & you the side-ward knight will be gone too-- knocked off your feet & ghost hooves on tile-- what do you know about the rook? pawns sauntering back to the front line-- crawl-- slide back to my corners-- this time you start-- watch out for me-- watch out for me the castle has no door-- kiss me
