The Poetry Marathon

Grandmother used to braid feathers into my hair
Her dark skin and eyes contrasted
My blonde and green

When friends began to pass away
I braided feathers into my hair
And did not remove them
Until they fell out on their own

There were feathers when I lost my grandfather
Then my great grandfather and at least 7 friends
I lost count of how many have been worn
Spirit wings of mourning meant to carry love onwards

My longing for space has evolved rapidly
I want to wrap barbed wire around my body
Don’t touch don’t come closer
I want a landline so I can be inaccessible
Leave me a message and I’ll get back to you
When I’m able
When I’m stable

I want the sun
Not just metaphorically, I mean
I want the scalding blistering heat
The blinding
I want to make a nest
And sleep until my body is dark
but my mind is not

You once told me that I was the light that guided you
Whenever you felt lost
A northern star or lighthouse
Something twinkling and fragile
Yet pierced through the dark nights

I think of that when I turn on my nightlight
The fairy nestled in her chair of crescent moon
I wonder if that’s what I looked like
If you walked easier knowing that you had me
If you felt cared for even in my absence

What is the importance of one strand of hair
one grain of sand
one drop of water
one singular ant

Don’t make this political
it’s critical you understand
that choosing not to take a stand
is part of the problem

It doesn’t affect you personally
you’re just one vote
you’re just one voice
you say it doesn’t make a difference

The difference between us is not
race gender financial
age orientation preference
and it is not an opinion

If everyone decided all at once
their voice doesn’t matter
their vote doesn’t matter
their support doesn’t matter

The world would never change
you cannot count on others
to care any more than you do
it’s your choice to not contribute

This is moral obligation
and you just can’t be bothered
so I won’t bother
with you

Somewhere in her later teens
Halloween came unexpectedly
Unprepared and scared of being the only person
Out of costume
She strapped on black corset
Had best friend cinch it
Tight
Tighter
There
Black fur coat
Leather leggings
Cat ear headband

Skinny stray cat wandering up streets
Trick or treating
Heart beating from candy or cocaine
Always slick and strutting
Looking for a home
Needs more sweetness than chocolates
Less doors being closed

I guess I can be thankful
That payphones are rare to come across
One less reminder of the child that never got to be a child
In photographs it doesn’t look like me
My therapist pointed out that I say “it”
So far removed from that little girl
Could be a stock photo in a frame

I carry so much with me
Fractured memories but some are sharper
The darker ones seems to be the trend
Mother shaking me awake
We need to leave
No time for shoes
Climb over the patio wall
Go quickly quietly don’t look back
If anything happens run just run okay
My bare feet on cold concrete felt like we walked for miles
Gas station payphone you start to dial
I’m looking at you now

Your face is all running mascara and blood
I don’t know what to do
You don’t tell me what I should do
So I go inside and get some napkins
Clean your face up for you while you sob
While you find someone to pick us up
That’s when the cycle started for me

I learned that night that if
I don’t know what to do
I should just take care of someone
Anyone
A loophole to feeling helpless
Constantly of service
Patching up wounds so that I don’t notice
My own

My feet are cold but I have the urge
To make someone else feel better

I don’t need anything from you
I don’t need rings promises proclamations
I don’t need reassurance or grand gestures
I just don’t want us to ever become strangers again

Bronzed goddess savior with a septum ring and easy smile
Island girl comes to the rescue I just met you but it doesn’t matter
My soul already knows my soul knows that it knows yours
Paddle boarding take me to your favorite beach kiss me ocean salty lover sweet
Why didn’t I meet you sooner and why do I have to leave

4th of July straight from Lanikai to catch a flight my swimsuit soaking through my clothes
And your car but you make sure I understand that you don’t care it’s just saltwater
More saltwater comes when we try to say goodbye why am I crying we just met
Why is every part of me wet I just don’t get it

Hair begins to dry crunched curls
Salt streaked cheeks from missing a girl
Before my flight even takes off

4th of July straight from Lanikai, made my flight but cried all the way to my gate
Fireworks going off somewhere couldn’t care less a dripping mess I just feel wet
Missed her mouth all the way home didn’t matter to miss fireworks
She brought more extravagance and light than they ever could have

1. Spent most of my twenties wrapped around another person like overgrown ivy that no one thought to manage. Unmanageable in every imaginable way, so naturally, I had to be removed.
2. What people don’t understand is the strength of an unmaintained vine – how it can grow through houses and split the walls, disrupt foundation, tear a building apart from the inside. A strong vine and an indestructible structure, rock meets hard place, extraction while necessary is easier said than done.
3. Never had much of a green thumb, couldn’t keep anything alive. The structure always wanted orchids, but the ivy seemed to only destroy everything in its path. A friend bought me plants, I told him that they wouldn’t survive.
4. The plants given were unique in a way. Extracting a weed, a deeply rooted tree, a long growing vine, is difficult because of its attachment. Almost like a codependency.
5. Okay, fuck off. Yes, it was codependency.
6. Small and green and ready to surely meet their demise, rested my eyes on these potted plants and was told that they thrive on darkness, and neglect. Specifically, “if you pay attention to them, they will die.”
7. I thought the most toxic thing is life was living a life feeling unseen, not cared for, or attended to. The plants began to grow. They proved me wrong. They kept growing, and so did I. I learned to survive, and thrive, without needing much from anyone else.
8. In short: I learned more from hyper-independent, anti-social, and avoidant plants, than I did from my therapist at the time.
9. Plants are cheaper. If your therapist doesn’t cut it, talk to your plants.

Look at me
As if it isn’t written on my face
Dripping from my lips sticky
Probably tastes familiar
The kind of exercise that best fits my frame
Say my name if you can guess it
Bless it with holy water

At a certain point I am more than a daughter
Have to grant myself the freedom to admit
I carry carnal feral animal
That screams for me to free it
No small walks through the park
She doesn’t bark
She howls

These demons to be exorcised
Are impulses to be exercised
To be worn out to be worn down
Wrapped around and grounded
Found it ravenous and savage
Exclaims God’s name in vain
Can say it better than her own