The Poetry Marathon

“I’ve never inspired someone before”

I find that immensely hard to believe

I believe that you may have fallen for

A lie, I know that you have been deceived

Who told you you are insignificant?

Who convinced you that you do not matter?

I for one know you are magnificent 

Vulnerability alone flatters

I may fall in love easily most days

But I fall in love with people’s moments

With the left side dimple that blooms with praise

The smile, twinkling, shyly represents

A moment where you (you!) inspired me

By sharing, being honest, you are free

The blinds are always left up by about 6 inches, the height of the dog’s heads

They rush across the kitchen floor when they hear the beeping of the electric lock.

The first to greet me at the door, sometimes the only one

Laying on the floor in a sunspot, whispered truths share the light.

I miss having some

one to share secrets with, all

my dogs are dead now

The sunlight is captured, perhaps long ago

trapped in cells of hardwood

harvested and deconstructed

Only to end up a sheet of ads for groceries that I did not read

I twist the newspaper in my hands curling it into a thin snake 

that would be easily camouflaged at a stop & shop 

then lay it inside the ring 

casually dropping it amongst its raw kindling brethren

a serpent of smoke rises into the world 

the dye coloring it so much darker than

the cumulonimbus that shields us 

from the sunlight it begs to be a part of again

as the flames die down 

the embers flash through its skeletal remains 

echoing the lightning that splits the shield briefly

finally a piece is light enough, still burning at the edges

the current of heat thrusts it back towards the storm

Briefly it shines against the cloud in sky before disappearing 

Back to the sky where it once belonged 

with a sigh of gratitude

Content warning – sexual content, assault, alcohol use

I am whole and I have no missing pieces.

When I was 14, on a Monday with no school, “watching” Lord of the Rings for the first time, and felt someone else’s fingers on my lips, I did not give away a piece of myself.

When I was 16, in a diabetics basement, after losing miserably at phase 10 yet again, and I felt someone else’s pleasure in my mouth, I did not give away a piece of myself.

When I was 17, in previously soaked clothes, having been rained out of the amusement park and split a bottle of rum, and I felt the joy of going without latex, I did not give away a piece of myself.

When I was 18, in a drunken stupor, left without a prom date, and I felt the pain of waking up knowing someone did not ask for my permission, I did not give away a piece of myself

When I was 19, in the anonymity of the internet, falling head over heals for silver-tongued bastard and making sure they knew it with the videos I kept coming, I did not give away a piece of myself.

When I was 20, in the spirit of “when in Rome”, drunk on the attention of the bartenders at the Irish pub, I let an art teacher tell me all about the Fontana dei Fiumi, I did not give away a piece of myself.

When I was 21, in the depths of a beer glass, being thanked in bourbon aged beer for waiting until I was “of age” to visit, and I watched my reflection shake in a mirror hung on antique wallpaper, I did not give away a piece of myself.

When I was 22, in an especially humid summer, writing a cover letter every week only to be ignored, and I was comforted by a face and more between my thighs, I did not give away a piece of myself.

When I was 23, in the witch city, judging all of the Mai Tai’s I could get my hands on with a person I could kiss for hours, and I decided to enjoy a different drink in the back seat of their car on a Thursday night, I did not give away a piece of myself.

When I was 24, in the full view of George Washington and the public, on a particularly hazy evening, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away from a cherub’s eyes to enjoy the fog in the garden, I did not give away a piece of myself.

When I was 25, on a stage with a spectator sketching my bound form, a protective sheet of plastic beneath me, and I shouted yes please until I couldn’t anymore, I did not give away a piece of myself.

I am whole and I have no missing pieces.

The epigraph I wrote for myself as an assignment in the 10th grade

A sadness means you live inside your past,

And worry means you fear what well may be,

And though the present seems to fade so fast,

It’s only there that you may live in peace.

The Moment, a glosa

For far too long I was denied chances

To explore the truth that dances

Beneath the veneer of ‘normal’

I would like to lodge a formal

Complaint against my parents

Refusing to be errant

For raising me in a place

I was always treated like a disgrace

I sit here, crying, angry, knowing that

A sadness means you live inside your past

How they perceive me now

Inconsistent with how

My inner lost boy longs to be seen

Shine my masculinity

Shadowed over with doubt

Distracted by the chest that sprouted

Against my will, against my wishes

Voice high, hips wide, other superfices

I sit here, chewing my cheek, knowing that anxiety

And worry means you fear what well may be

Today I drink decaf coffee with my shoes off

Almost hoping I make a small minded man scoff

Reveling in the ambiguity I have the guts

To showcase, with hoodies and haircuts

Enough to hide telltale form

That people associate with a gender I don’t perform

My laugh rings out with a person who finally reflects

My truth back, no falsities that I project

I sit here, determined to hold onto the joy I’ve amassed

And though the present seems to fade so fast

I know each moment will be followed

Whether by a high or a low

I’m excited to find out

Because now that I am out

The world isn’t just brighter, its real

I have every opportunity to heal

When I experience the realities

Of living with only myself to please

I sit here, knowing that the moment I’ve seized,

It’s only there that you may live in peace

We have the opportunity to be better than our forefathers

Having so few exposures to people of different cultures

Isn’t an excuse

To be a piece of shit

Evolve beyond what your parents have taught you

Society here in the

United States was organized 

Privilege whiteness 

Racism is alive and well

Educate yourself

Make an effort

Act like you want the world to be better

Cause we ALL deserve that

You deserve that

I step onto the train

Remember the first time he made me cry

Because he asked if I wanted him to sit with me

And I felt safe saying no

To ride alone with my own thoughts

It is the last scheduled tonight

I step onto the train

The conductor warns me not to miss my stop

I remember the time I missed it texting him

And had to walk from the next station

The last time I saw him in person

I wept, surprised and confused

I step onto the train

I said I didn’t understand, can you tell me more

And wasn’t prepared for the answer

I asked if we could meet up to chat

They said the timing would work

Its been over a month

I step onto the train

Of course the cancellation text comes after that

I see him on the station

And wish I hadn’t 

I consider making a pit stop at the bar

And grieve the fact that I want to hide from him

I step onto the train

My gender is a million beautiful things.

a lump of fuzzy blankets.

the chime of a bicycle bell. 

the head on a just poured stout. 

the swirling mists wafting from the hot cup of coffee on an empty patio on an October morning. 

a dog eared page in a yellowing book.

the way the light shines off of brown eyes blinking away sleep on a saturday morning.

your favorite magnet on the fridge. 

the sunshine yolk of an over medium egg.

a sheen of sparkling condensation on the pint of ice cream when you get home from the grocery store before you put it in the freezer. 

a fan that has been run high every single night since you can remember getting it. 

a toasted brioche bun.

a watercolor painting of wildflowers that grow only on the hills of your dreams. 

the dirt that is still stuck in your hiking boots in the spring. 

the way your eyes roll into the back of your head when you take that first sip of cool water after mowing the lawn.

the first ray of sunshine that breaches the mountain pass in spring.

the caramel at the bottom of your latte.

It is every glimmer and beauty that shines in a day

My god is an awesome god

My god has a limp

My god has ADHD

My god has complex PTSD

My god has a disorganized attachment style

My god is as queer as hell

My god forgets to brush their teeth

My god is a sexual assault survivor

My god has sun faded stickers all over their hydroflask

My god has a complicated relationship with faith

My god smoked their first cigarette on a boat and blamed their sea legs when they vomited

My god needs to learn to take more breaks from holding the entire world’s opinion of him

My god is cursed with physical form by some other god that may or may not exist

My god is on the third consecutive hardest summer of his life so far

My god pretends to get a phone call when he accidentally boards the wrong bus

My god climbed to the top of the waterfall at the top of the hill at the top of their street only to realize that was rock bottom

My god plays no instruments because he cannot bear to be seen trying, to grow up in public

My god fell in love with a blue eyed cherub only to meet an archangel behind closed doors

My god loved him more for his wrath

My god ate 2 pounds of strawberries when they were nine, and was briefly 3% fruit

My god grew up to be much fruitier than 3%

My god hates the cloying Crisco filling of Oreos almost as much as he hates the charred husk of a cookie they claim is chocolate, even when you hold it down until the bubbles stop

My god once tried to hold themself down until the bubbles stop and it is the first failure they remember being proud of

My god doesn’t avoid their reflection anymore

My god is a lost boy, flying straight on ’til morning

My god ends up writing autobiographical poetry nearly every time they write because the artist part of their brain is the first part that loved themself enough to finally put itself first

My god flies a trans flag

My god remakes himself in his own image

My god is an awesome god, because I am my God.