finger paint love me there would never be enough photographs of us so i took to finger painting-- set easels around my bed room-- i made us oranges & yellows-- ketchup reds & deep spear mint evergreens-- we grew the kind of green you pull from the throat of the ocean-- the kind that kisses aquamarine i painted our lips with my thumbs-- used my knees to draw cheek bones-- my toes traced your jawline these bodies are tools of color-- dipped my shoulders sky blue to roll over the clouds-- lay here in bed with me-- let's paint each other into sunsets-- bruised sunsets maroon scabbing dusk-- i fell in a calliope of fingers-- made the sign of the cross on your forehead in cobalt blue-- wipe off your sins on the back of your hand-- finger paint me how you want-- how do you want to remember the curves of my body? fill me full of yellow-- smear me brown & black-- leave enough white on the canvas space to sleep in-- when the sun trickles in the window to pour over bodies we can crawl into the dark quiet of a camera-- the cove where color & light are stolen to make memories on the other side of the lens it's quiet-- moss & must kiss my neck in this deliberate dark-- rub my lips off on your tongue-- kiss me deep enough to fill your body with mine-- paint yourself with the the colors no one has known the ones deep down in me bone's corridors i want your to finger paint love me there's no light here-- there's only our bodies & god
09/26
What's wrong with your voice? i took scissors to radio tongues-- opened my mouth wide enough to swallow the record player-- the disk skip skip skips in my throat i open-- i unhindge my jaw wide enough to let out the calls of hundreds of birds-- there's the whistle of the black-capped chickadee-- the trill of the pine warbler-- the wail of the common loon-- an uncontrollable laughter falls out on the carpet in a burst of black speckled feathers i'm homesick for a voice alone in my room i sing the one song i know in italian i remember my voice teacher telling me to throw the high notes out the top of my head through the ceiling-- they always got tangled-- beak & claw thrashing-- smack against the ceiling fan-- i sing italian words-- i sing them wrong-- they get knotted on the ladder rungs of my throat-- Spesso vibra per suo gioco Spesso vibra per suo gioco i don't translate-- i make up a meaning for the song-- i say this song is about a dead lover & my voice teacher says that not every song is about dying but i think it is-- especially if it's in italian-- i practice over & over sitting here-- throwing my voice at the ceiling until there's none of it left i open my mouth & speak static & gravel i cut out newspaper headlines-- swallow them i'm making a paper machete voice i've been your ventriloquist-- i've song soprano & followed along in a hymnal-- i sing ave ave ave maria-- maria give me the call of a magpie if i can't sing away my tongue-- i'll take the scissors to it-- snip out my teeth-- my tongue piece by piece-- plant them in the back yard & wait with my mouth closed & filling with feathers-- red blood feathers-- i'm waiting for my teeth to grow trees & in the trees i'll spend my day catching birds & asking them to chirp to warble to sing to thrash-- spit their words into the back of my mouth what's wrong with my voice? it's in assembly-- piece by piece i'm building radio tongue-- bird call i break through the ceiling
09/25
our daughters were hurricanes cut your sneakers down from the telephone wires run down the center of noble street with me-- balance on the double yellow lines-- if we run fast enough we can lose these bodies-- if i didn't have this body i would have the sky & the melting polar ice caps-- let's run up there & down there tell them to stop this none sense-- tell them that there's nothing to cry over that there's never been anything to cry over-- we'll put a blue ice packs on their foreheads & say you're burning up you're burning up with a fever of 99.7 i stayed home from elementary school & my father dropped goldfish crackers into chicken noodle soup taught me how to swim-- taught me how to let myself melt-- he told me the polar bears are melting & breaking off into the sea-- & all the while the news reports warned that our daughters were becoming hurricanes-- they were tying their sneakers together & tossing them over the telephone wires on noble street-- they were outrunning their bodies & dispersing into the grass as morning dew-- oh i've always wanted to trade my skin to become a morning fog headlights shout through me i wrote a letter to the ice caps & told them to swallow their tears like i learned to swallow my own-- paper cup by paper cup their bodies gained force up east coast-- swirled & knotted into themselves-- she screamed with a force of 80 mph & trees un-clenched their fists from the soil & the sand oh our daughter maria what had we done to you to turn you into a cyclone-- was your mother so jealous that she let herself melt into the sea? when i'm done running there will be no such thing as snow & the earth will be made of water & we will all be able to float i was the daughter that plucked the eye of the storm out of her grandmother's jewelry box-- a glittery brooch pinned to my chest by the time i hit land i was a hurricane-- i pulled my sneakers down from the telephone line & ran
09/24
anthony i think i'm still in love with a boy named anthony who sat next to me in the second grade-- we both agreed that allosaurus is much better than T-Rex even though everyone thinks T-Rex is cooler-- we compared book-sale catalogs & we'd both circled Jurassic Attack! the cover with a velociraptor leaping out of the page-- we agreed that we would be friends he told me he was moving to minnesota & i asked how far a drive that was & he said only a few states away & i said i would visit him-- i imagined states were as far apart as towns or even as close as sidewalk squares i built him a farm house with wooden floors he left the porch light on for me & we caught lighting bugs he lived right over the railroad tracks in fleetwood because i didn't remember what was over there-- i assumed it could be minnesota i said i would have my dad drive me because he doesn't mind road trips & maybe we could read Jurasic Attack! together i asked if anthony had a play station & he said he was getting one someday so i said i'd bring over dad's dinosaur video game-- the game with the purple-haired girl all dressed in leather-- i told him that i liked it for the dinosaurs-- not for the girl even though you had to play as her-- he made me pinky swear i would visit-- he told me that it made him feel better to know he'd still have a friend-- that night when i went home to our row house on main street i walked outside with my dad i asked him to turn off the street lamps so that the moths would quit burning themselves he said he'd try & we walked up & down the sidewalk taking out each light bulb-- i told him that i wanted to visit my friend in minnesota & he just held our blue plastic sand bucket full of light bulbs-- they clattered together-- i asked where the moths would escape to without all the street lamps & my dad said they'd probably end up high as the moon-- knocking it from the top shelf-- he said minnesota was also on the top shelf-- & i told him we should knock it down-- break it into a thousand pieces like our blue & yellow cereal bowls on the kitchen floor & all the moths smacked on the moon -- got lost lost in the stars & didn't come down until the spring we floated the light bulbs in the creek & they lit up-- little lanterns bobbing slowly away-- i asked if light bulbs could ever be stars & my dad said maybe but only if we could pick up the pieces of minnesota on the kitchen floor-- i said that maybe the light bulbs would make it there-- to my friend & he would know i hadn't forgotten dear anthony do you still like allosaurus? it's okay if you don't & it's okay if you never got a play station-- dear anthony did you get my light bulbs? were they still bright in minnesota? minnesota right over the railroad tracks in your great big farm house with wooden floors & a porch covered in lightning bugs-- if you read this take minnesota off your top shelf & mail it to me
09/23
for want of a wolf for want of a wolf she wore a red thong & shaved her legs in the creek-- nicked her heel & blood trickled up stream with maroon & burnt orange leaves grandmother's house was a highway-- a back seat-- a crystal jar of strawberry hard candies-- grandmother's house was a wooden pew & a stained glass window & a mug full of hot milk for want of a wolf she stuck her hand out the car wind to catch racing air her mother told (her like all mothers tell their red children) to never hitchhike-- to stay in the backseat & never wear thongs because they make you a slut for want of a wolf she opened the back door roll out onto hot asphalt highway-- stuck out her thumb for want of a wolf she wore a red thong & the maple trees were so embarrassed that they got naked for her-- spilled their leaves-- wrote love poems on each one before they fell-- wrote sonnets about her razor burn legs wrote elegies wrote prayers for want of a wolf she hitchhiked to grandmother's house-- her grandmother's house past 7/11 past Limerick Diner & past tall blinking radio towers sending distress signals to God-- God who fills his ears with clouds for want of a wolf she ate cake from her basket-- drank the wine & bled purple closed her eyes & day dreamed about what fangs would feel like against her pink skin & her grandmother was very very strange like all grandmothers oh what big eyes, ears, mouth you have oh what big erotic teeth-- all the better to eat me with-- the inside of a wolf is warm-- is quiet & throbbing & full of so much blood for want of darkness for want of heartbeat for want of a lonely body she rested she thought of radio towers & how she had never been good at praying she thought for the first time of her father & wondered if he had ever been a wolf or a highway or a basket full of wine & cake the hunter's axe is always the first one responsible for blood for want of a wolf he cut open her grandmother but he saw she was wearing a thong so he filled them both with stones-- the girl & the wolf river stones-- smooth & heavy each one down their throats like lead tongue kisses he weighed them down so they could never move from grandmother's house her house past 7/11 & red light radio towers & God pretended not to listen they lay statues with erotic teeth & her red red thong
09/22
when heaven was the other side of a cloud it was one of those nights where i was the only person left on earth & headlights drove themselves-- blared in the driveway-- it was one of those nights where i had to coax my body to stay & not wander off to a cloud-- it was one of those nights i spent trying not to think so much about dying & thinking how everything would be better if the rapture would have happened-- we all could have gone up together-- i want to go back to a time when heaven was as close as the other side of a cloud-- i don't want to die but when i look at the confused september street all i can think about is how the sidewalk will look covered in snow-- how it's inevitable that it will be again covered in snow i like to look at snow but i don't like the way it tucks us all in-- tells us to whisper-- snow says speak in hushed voices get out of bed late & turn your body into an angel-- flap your wings-- backwards fly into a headlight-- i believe in coming back to summer-- not because it's better than snow but because it's most lonely of all the seasons-- summer cuts her hair & no one notices-- summer shaves the front lawns of her knees-- she asks me to hold her hand & walk up our street again-- she says she feels like she doesn't have a right to be so bold in september-- i kiss her under a street lamp like how you're supposed to-- i'm watching her decrescendo-- her arms will start at night-- cold-- she will grow frost under her fingernails she'll shake her bones loose in maple trees-- paint maroon & mandarin leaves on sidewalk & autumn will never love her like i did-- since if was seven i've been fascinated by frozen lakes-- i stood on the edge of the pond in fleetwood park while my father explained that the ice wasn't thick enough to stand on-- i wanted to walk on it anyway-- like a sidewalk-- like a sidewalk to fall into-- i watched TV shows about little kids who slipped through the ice & were rescued only i didn't want to be rescued-- i wanted from the bottom of my bones to feel cold-- to feel the stillness of the bottom of the pond-- a ceiling of ice & heaven sitting above with her headlights
09/21
potato roll heart girl i sold my heart for a potato roll-- broke it apart into pieces to toss to ducks & blue gills-- hungry creek water licked clean my feet i slathered my heart in peanut butter & ate alone on a bench for sixth grade lunch & Miss Brett asked me why i was sitting by myself i said i hadn't noticed-- i squished my heart into little balls of bread to skewer on our fish hooks-- dropped the line into the stream my father taught me how keep my finger gentle against the string-- to listen with my whole body for the mouth of a fish he ate bits of bread before casting out-- we drank rootbeer from bottles the way everyone should & every now & then we'd both say we felt a nibble-- a tug-- neither of us caught a fish neither of us wanted to i've been thinking about all the times i was so accidentally beautiful-- a fat ten year old girl who thought to put an orchid in her hair-- bare foot-- soil-kneed-- potato roll heart girl peeling herself apart for a fish she hasn't met yet-- a girl in flat black shoes-- cutting her hair to make a bird's nest dropping maple whirligigs from her window she flies in a downward motion-- she eats lunch alone-- her father fishes beside her & neither of them catch a thing
09/20
to kiss a boy with crooked teeth when i was in the 6th grade i learned to lip-smile-- to keep the tombstones inside my head-- my blue retainer made a cathedral ceiling of the roof of my mouth-- i swallowed gravel from the yard in the bathroom mirror i would pull at them & their monster angles-- i would wonder how long i would have to stand there & press on them to get my teeth to line up right-- i wanted braces-- i would get them in sparkly blue like katie & when they came off i would have a mouth full of piano keys to play with my tongue-- the only song i could ever really play on piano was hot crossed buns-- i've spent years leaning up against the backs of my own teeth & when i walked through the river of rocks at the base of hawk mountain i couldn't help but open my mouth to pull out the rattle snakes-- now i'm 21 & trying to smile with my mouthful-- in the foggy bathroom mirror i noticed my teeth are growing more crooked than ever-- on the bottom my incisors jut into each other like quartz crystal formations & my canines howl through the cave of my mouth-- their pirouettes both elegant & unnatural-- i'm here to praise my crooked teeth-- i want to use them this morning as stepping stones into the garden we never planted-- the one with the pumpkins & the sunflowers-- weeds grew beneath my tongue so i let them-- i'm here to praise the honey suckle bush for growing wild-- to praise the ivy for clawing us apart brick by bleeding brick-- i tossed a brick at the glass windows of my teeth & they shattered into a poem-- i'll walk on my crooked teeth to cross the creek-- i'll put some of them into my pockets to take home & keep with my fossil collection-- my teeth shake like stone fern leaves-- they become as loose as wind chimes-- sing my mouth full of howl-- full of bathroom mirror mist-- i will smile my whole mouth full-- i will play you a song on only the black keys & i will grow wild as a honey suckle bush-- from under my tongue i'll grab a bouquet of sunflowers-- these are for you-- for kissing the boy lips bruised by bricks & crooked teeth
09/19
this is where we'll plant a fig tree i want to be the alley that you whisper down-- trace my spine with your feet as you walk down the gravel road full of cantaloupe rinds-- this is where we'll plant the fig tree-- between the gnashing fangs of my ribs-- take a handful of seeds & swallow-- i want to press your thumb into the warm soil of my bones i was the copperhead & your were the apple-- only i was the one with the stem-- i want to be twisted & plucked-- i want to catch your whispers & put them into jars to keep in the cupboard for when i'm lonely & we've long stopped being lovers-- i'll crawl inside the cabinets & open each mason jar to hear you breathe again-- your mouth drinks oceans & beneath your tongue you keep the Eucharist wafer moon-- this is my body-- do this in memory of me-- get on your knees longer after you've left me & check to see if the rivers are still running with wine-- drink with your hands & remember the fig tree-- remember to wrap it in the winter & put it in the garage on the cold cement floor so that the frost won't steal the leaves-- remember to pick the fruit when they're bruised & plump as the fist marks on my thighs from when the sky turned into a barrel of stone-- what do you know of the old gravel road from which i took my spine? what do you know of mouths & all that we keep behind them? could you kiss me long enough to hear me whisper? what kinds of stories do you ribs tell when you strum them like out-of-tune ukulele strings-- use the fret board of my wrists-- there weren't enough days to love you on-- & each sun waited too long to wrap herself in blankets-- there weren't enough rocks in the river to smooth us into skipping stones-- i'll skip three times before i sink-- grip me between your index finger & your thumb-- the next time you hold a pebble pretend for me that it is a peach pit-- go out into your back yard where we kissed too many times & not enough- & press your thumb into the soil-- & you know it will never be a peach tree but we can pretend & when the moon break free from beneath your tongue there will grow the fig tree again-- bursting out of the garage & sinking her roots back in through the bottoms of our feet-- our bodies were never meant to forget the trees we planted-- when did i become the copperhead? when did you fall heavy as an apple? hold still-- i want to fill this jar with your smile-- i don't want to forget what you looked like when you loved me & the moon was thin enough to melt under our tongues
09/18
in search of a reflection i used to steal my body from the full length mirror in my mother's bedroom-- it was the only place in the house i could find my whole body at once-- there were other places where i searched-- dipping my hands into smaller mirrors & fished out my ankle bones-- fistfuls of teeth & tendon-- i would lay down on the floor of the bathroom-- naked after a shower & look at myself in the mirrors around the parameter the room-- wiped off mist to see my flesh-- pinkish from the hot water-- my body was in a constant state of evaporation-- i wrote my name in the foggy mirrors to press myself back into my body-- oh how easy i become vapor-- in my mother's room i'd locked the door behind myself so no one could see my play with my own reflection-- i taught her to tie herself tight as a ribbon-- to smile like a folded paper napkin-- my flesh was a lump of clay & i remembered how to make a pinch-pot from third grade art class when one boy's mug had air bubbles & exploded in the kiln-- since then i had been scared my body would break in the kiln-- i've swallowed so much air-- i took both my hands into my mouth & squeezed my lips open-- crafted my skull into a jar to pour in pennies & beads & loose paper clips-- i figured that a reflection was just another art project-- one without glue-- from the shelf i took my mother's velvet makeup bag & laid out the implements on the carpet-- black pencils & lipstick-- i could never put my lips on quite right-- it always looked like i was taking someone else's-- i would apply them again & again-- peel them off my face & put them in my pocket-- i would swallow less air without them & then i tried to find my eyes-- shifting for marbles, i drew dark circles around them with a green eye-liner pencil-- i so much resembled the moon when it wakes up-- & again i wiped the lines off on the back of my hand-- when i was done playing i checked the door again & took off my clothing-- i turned to the side to see the profile of my body-- i stepped farther & farther backwards & thought about how i liked my body more the farther away i was from it-- i began to cry-- tried to grab myself through the mirror again but this time my hand touched glass-- i asked to be clay-- to burst in the kiln & start over again & again-- i took my lips out of my pocket & tried to become a woman-- both hands leaving smudges on the glass i told her to turn away-- to turn away & leave me alone & so my reflection put her clothing on-- she let her hair fall in front of her face & she turned her back so i couldn't look at her-- i told her to stay like that-- to haunt me no more-- putting on my own cloths i looked back one more time but the mirror was empty as it would remain-- lately i have been in search my reflect-- i've been holding this apology in my throat-- i want her to come back-- i'm not so scared of my own skin now & i keep my lips on my face-- i want to tell her she can be naked & pink & stomach fat & hairy arms-- she can be a jar of paper clips or the drowsy face of the moon-- i clear the mist off the mirror in my bathroom i'm twenty-one & i still look for her--
