The Poetry Marathon

Eat Your Feelings

A quarter cup of almonds

won’t curb the hunger

of meals you didn’t eat,

picking croutons out of a salad

like contaminants.

I wanted to stop hurting,

so I shoveled pasta

in my mouth with my hands

and now they stare at

the alfredo dripping

from my fingers.

Five AM

Fall asleep on me, please.

Let your heavy eyes rest.

Because the fact of the matter

is that the only thing

that calms the storm in me

is the buoy of your breathing.

Maybe Not, After All

I’ve always wondered
where the lines of
unconditional love blur.
At what point does all the
oxytocin and dopamine
get cancelled out?
When does sunk cost fallacy
start to float?
What horrific act of villainy
snaps the final thread?
If that moment in time
happens to exist at all,
was there ever such a thing
as unconditional?

AF

I’ve got rage like heartburn

twisting in my chest,

a knife plunged so deep

I still feel the ache

in the morning.

I think if my fingertips

grazed glass I might

put my fist through it.

Earthbound

I want a radical kind of love

to sweep the world.

An aching empathy

wracking every heart

in every chest.

I want to see random acts

of kindness spontaneously

combusting across the planet.

All the grocery carts lined up

in their designated lanes,

just to save the

parking lot attendant a trip.

Excess dumped in truckloads

at shelters and pantries.

I’m dying for no small change

to our regular day to day,

because currently

I want to fling myself off

this selfish piece of

diseased rock.

July

I’m craving barbecue

with a tangy, spicy sauce,

set out on a picnic table

under a shady awning.

We’ve got soda cans on the corners

so the wind doesn’t blow

away the tablecloth.

Paper plates

and grocery store cookies–

they’re never great but

they hit the spot when it’s

so hot the ice in the cooler’s

a melting slush.

My parents pull in the lot

with a pan of mac & cheese

from my favorite spot,

and our kids run screaming

to greet them.

I can almost taste it now,

behind the stale loneliness

of wine drunk.

The Let Down

Just ignore the sudden rage,

the tightness in your chest will

go away soon.

Don’t let anyone see

you’re leaking in rivers.

It’s just fine,

it’s just fine.

Completely natural,

nothing to get upset about.

I’m dripping on the floor.

There’s always next time,

as they say,

so what are you crying for?

About Time

What’s a few more weeks

another month or two

maybe next year

I can wait

I can wait

I’ll wait

Safety Lids

My child will grow up

knowing the orange bottles on the counter

are Mommy’s,

knowing sometimes there’s days spent

in bed.

They’ll know that people aren’t perfect

and some bodies are broken.

That sometimes we have to have patience

when somebody’s hurting.

I wish my child could have

the mother from magazine covers,

but they’ll have to settle

for one that loves them

with her whole heart.

Overeducated Blues

We talk kids who can’t buy

a six pack of beer

into signing up for

multi-thousand dollar loans.

If you don’t go to college,

you won’t make enough

to survive.

You’ll be left behind

in the rat race of life.

Higher education is

the only way.

And then we pay them

an unadjusted minimum wage,

wrap them up in

interest rates your grandfather

would have gawked at.

Charge three times what he paid

for his first house

at twenty years old.

The burger flippers don’t

deserve ten an hour,

it’s all just teens in school.

But you took that loan,

you better pay it back.

I paid off all mine,

so you should suffer too.

They’ve got masters degrees

and no jobs

because you can’t pound the pavement anymore.

They’re just a name on a resume

and a score on a personality quiz.

We pump them full of dreams

and then yank the pillow

from under them.

If we want our children

to have a better life than us,

then why the hell do we make it

so damn hard?