The Poetry Marathon

I put it in expo marker on the fridge.

I wish I hadn’t erased it because now my evening meals taste different without you here.

I am missing something.

Maybe ingredients?

Or maybe it’s just that I miss you.

My friend proposed to her girlfriend the same day I was driving cross country in silence,

the cab cologne of basil leaves fills the truck.

It’s the freshest air I’ve tasted,

now that I’m used to living in the city.

I am picturing the fresh basil leaves from her garden,

pressed against white sheets.

Shaped like a heart–

And how she said yes.

Love isn’t like the movies, it’s better.

Specific and imperfect.

The pang of admiration I felt seeing that post.

How she didn’t need roses or money to have love fill her life.

My inner monologue reading the words ‘bay-zil leaves’ in my southern accent.

I reminisce how the cats tried to eat each leaf of the plant next to me,

how you would pluck a few for meals, teeth marks and all.

Nurturing your plant babies with each pruning,

your green thumb keeping time with each pulse of syllables and how they sound when you say ‘ba-z-i-l-l’

and my worry of your approval when I say it my way.

The heat threatening my thought

with each bump,

I won’t hear your feet hit the hard wood each morning.

Each box in back,

a space you will no longer fill.

The tendrils lean into me while I push the pedal to the floor.

I continue east, knowing the sun will rise with you.

Dogs don’t know that they only have ten years,

they go into every situation with little awareness.

Live like they never die,

I’m learning this life is restless.

I struggle for the loss of time,

always wishing for more.

She doesn’t know that we are one fifth the way there.

I held her in my palm and now she takes up both arms.

I dread when they will be empty.

I try not to think about it.

But I do.

When I couldn’t find my driver’s license the last time,

I felt nothing but relief.

The BMV photograph and listed information showed a stranger that wasn’t even me.

Corrected it, but now my newfound privilege leaves me reeling.

Sense of lost identity and negated experiences.

I just don’t want to lose this one.

My stretched palms are branches,

swaying in place,

sunlight trickling through my shade.

Translucent, veins take root,

weaving phalanges.

Soaked serotonin nutrients,

behind closed eyelids we are sustained.

Thrive in our shared space,

bloom in difference.

Collectively, we are the flower.

We are the trees.

We are the soil.

We are the earth.

We are.

We are

We

are

We

are

I want to rush with you

and take it slow,

but the hardest part about hot and cold

is knowing when to let it go.

I feel numb even when I’m in pain,

the disaster of this cycle

leaves me ignoring the pouring of the rain.

And I just need you to know, I’m not your man.

I can’t be the one to hold you when you’re the one who crushed my hands.

Even though I want to–even though I want you

you’re no good for me, I’m no good for you.

Fruit Stripes

Impulse buys at the register
in 1999 I chose gum for the
first time.

Fruit stripes—
a zebra on the pack
and temporary tattoos
all under $1.

5 cents went to World Wildlife Fund
$100,000 donated
Wish more companies
cared about causes that matter.

Roller Derby

Spectating I watch
sisterhood slam
as a star races
skates screeching
with a toe stop pivot
to score.

The jammer
fast to avoid.
Striped helmet,
prepared to
break away.

Flash of colors
we pass players
point by point
the fans cheer.

Strength and power,
whip it for the win.

Signal Humanity

The colors of the rainbow bleed from my back pocket,
signal humanity.
I am the calm hope
to someone else’s storm.

I am the safety pin
on your denim jacket
holding the hand
of a child that
felt unloved before
a pride parade.

I am a free hug
on our friend’s porch when you
had nothing left
to lose

and nowhere to go.

The rainbow in my back
pocket will be
the noose I wrap around
my neck until everyone
else is safe and free.

Roe v Wade

1973 / 49 years ago / protect /women / give liberty / choice / abortion / 14th amendment / right to privacy / balancing game / separation / of church / and state / separation / of human / fetus / 2022 / overturned / autonomy lost / no constitutional right / abortion / determined by states / the loss of life will be far greater / we do not value people with uteruses /