The Poetry Marathon

One day we will tell her that she was named

after the magnolia tree, we could see

from the window

in our first apartment

Tell her that even though

our first home wasn’t picturesque

we made beautiful memories with what we had

because what we had was each other

One day we will tell him that he was named after his father

and grandfather

and great grandfather

Tell him that he comes from a long line of strong

and compassionate men

who knew that to carry this name

was to honor the men who came

before him

Neither of us came from perfect families

and we don’t expect to create one

But there is something to be said

about a family founded on

tear-soaked carpet

that always dries in the sunshine

death seeps in

poisons the mind

turns all the good memories into painful ones

unites us for a minute

divides us by the year

I see it in your favorite flower

hear it in your name

feel it in my throat

it comes for us all

but it is the death of others that we

feel

you made me a flower press last month

and you took me to the mountains

summer sun warmed our faces

fingers interlocking

our love is in bloom

petal-soft kiss

our season

always

us

I refused to let them beat me down

Spread me thin and forget about me

I looked up at periwinkle sky and imagined

dreamed

of taking a large needle and sewing up the tears

that had formed from their words

Alone in my grove

my own Forest Ranger

I twisted at sourdough scented words

Coughing clouds of pine needles

they wanted me to believe that comfort

breeds weakness

I will find any reason to celebrate you

my love

I want to shout your name from a moving car

letting the fields know that you are warm

warmer than the sun that nourishes them

We move in sync, your hand on mine

holding on tight when the other feels like they may

fly away

You are solid and sweet

a hard candy

wrapped in shiny blue foil

You are a locomotive, chugging along

moving and grooving

knee that goes up and down up and down

We fit together, like that was why we were born

to find the other and shoulder into one another

floating through life united

I never tire of telling you I love you

and never bore of hearing you tell me you love me

one day to celebrate you doesn’t feel like enough

So I’ll celebrate you with every breath and every kiss

my Capricorn lover

my dear sweet James.

Dramatic!

Crocodile tears!

Don’t go making a mountain out of a molehill

But gain perspective

To the ant, the molehill is their Everest

The bodies of their loved ones are caked into the dirt

unable to make the

climb

A 3-mile hike to him is a

easy

breezy

I wheeze and cough

giving myself internal pep talk after pep talk

pausing to catch my breath under the cover

of admiring flowers

Sensitive!

Hyperaware of all that isn’t normal

but feels out of control

Coming out of the dark and

into the light

isn’t always a good thing

Tunnel vision felt safe

cozy

secure

We live and die trying to survive the day

make this year better than the last

to keep moving forward

but never healing from the past

A young girl left to fend for herself

Just her and swamp and the birds

A tiny network keeping her afloat

Letting her believe that she is doing it all alone

A murder

Falling in love with the one person her age that shows her

kindness

A life spent in seclusion

On trial for being an abandoned child

A trial

She learns and persists

Writes and paints and builds her life

from the broken wreckage

of a family split in five

A verdict

All is not as it seems

Lines blur and the sky bends

just enough to where the moon is

secluded under the marsh

A life lived

I tell them about how the golden spiral

is found everywhere

shells

in the way trees branch out

pinecone spirals

Everything is connected I say,

we are all connected

to one another and nature

and the sky kisses the sea

we can see it if we look close enough

Mondrian is more than rectangles

blue white

red and yellow

black

it’s math I don’t understand

Tie together with neat red thread

leading from me to you

to her

to them and him

will tangle, knot, stretch as we pull away from one other

but will never break

Around our right pinkies

an artery that leads from pinkie tip to heart,

and from me to you.

Around our ankles

leading us to our soulmates,

plural

I don’t find comfort in being able to see the puzzle

pieces

but not the full picture

but while I’m working on this corner

you’re working on the center

and eventually, my section will touch yours.

I tell them that I saw it in a show when I was younger

but I think I always had this in my mind

the idea that relinquishing control is

the biggest act of defiance

forever be emblazoned in my skin

I recently when on a road trip

and boy,

don’t they always sound better on paper?

I didn’t realize that I can get

claustrophobic

until I was strapped in and 150

miles away from home.

We drove through towns that I will

never live in,

past people who live in a completely

different reality than I do

even though we are only

2 hours apart.

Seeing how big the world is makes me

feel so stuck

and comfortable in my hometown

I don’t have to worry about getting lost.

Well,

physically lost at least.

Stopping for gas

like finally and desperately reaching

an oasis.

Legs are wobbly,

head pounding,

pacing in between unfamiliar but familiar

gas pumps.

Smile to the cashier you will never see again,

recognize that to them, you are just

a blip in their workday

they don’t get paid enough to care about the

cracks forming in your sense of time and space

and self.

Snacks that will remain uneaten roll

and crunch under my feet,

how long has that ache in my back been there?

God, I am getting old.

We are 3 hours away.

3.

3.

Up the stairs, down the hall,

through the door.

To the bathroom.

Back down the hall,

into the room,

that unfamiliar room.

A large window,

the sound of the city underneath.

New city,

new life.

Unfamiliar,

straining to familiarize quickly,

learn the streets and the trees,

quick,

before my brain realizes that I can’t do this.

Down the street a tire shop,

advertising “cheap”

where I would rephrase “affordable.”

Mexican polka music.

Bagel shop.

The ceiling in our bathroom is leaking.

And I ….

and I ….

And I-

I don’t think I have any family that’ll survive the test of time

so I will write as if I’m writing to a stranger.

I suppose I am anyways,

but I digress.

I was not happy.

Not in life, not in career.

I was not a happy man.

The world is a large place brimming with zest and opportunity.

But everyone everywhere is finding a different battle to fight,

a new person to argue with,

a place to desecrate.

What did I ever have to be happy about?

There was a time where I had love,

hope,

dreams.

But how many beatings can one person take.

No physical bruises, but I’ve been told you can see

it in my eyes.

The dimness.

I’m a fractured person.

I gave parts of me to everyone I ever loved.

Some pieces were ripped off of me by people I

never even got the chance to fully know.

And I don’t blame them,

I think they were trying to find a piece of me that

would patch over a hole that existed

in them.

Broken people picking through the scraps,

a patchwork quilt of those we’ve loved

and lost,

those who view us as a means to an end,

or do not think about us much.

I don’t think anyone will think of me for much longer,

let alone think of me during the time this message sits underground.

But maybe you’re a new family, come here to make

your life.

Maybe you’re digging up the yard to put in a pool, or

some new plants.

I love dahlias, so maybe you can plant some of those.

I always meant to plant them myself.

Whoever you are, don’t let me be a forgotten whisper in

this world.

Let me be a ghost in your life.

You can make up some silly story to tell your kids,

if you have those.

In the afterlife, I won’t do anything cruel or scary.

I know it’s a lot to ask,

but maybe haunting your life

is the closest I will ever get

to heaven.