on: the beach
my legs feel uncertain,
unsteady.
almost like those days of my youth
when I would come home from the beach
and fall asleep
feeling the waves still hitting me
over and over
even though I am miles away
from the shore.
on: the rain
with you,
everything is love.
we stood together beneath an umbrella
you held my things in your hands
and I held your umbrella in mine.
we learned to compromise then and there,
that sometimes, you would hold my books
and sometimes, I would protect you from the storm.
with you,
at another time,
we stood before a gate,
a gentle summer rain drizzled down upon us,
right there
in that moment
neither of us needed saving.
on: the river
we spent that summer skipping stones
at the river.
the water was ice cold and I felt
numb.
the bridge was overhead
and there were fishes
and broken bottles.
there was something hidden deep within
the bushes
but I was too young and scared to go see
what it was.
on: islands
we come from warmth.
trees melting into the sky
coconuts
sand in our shoes.
we come from warmth.
the sea echoing and rolling
cold and wet and filled with little
silver fishes.
we come from warmth.
the sun slowly making his way
across the blue blue sky.
so blue I have to look twice
to make sure that I am not
in a dream.
we come from warmth.
we come from palms open wide
brown skin and white teeth
dark eyes and long hair that flows
the mango juice running down your arm
like a thread
the guavas that you pick yourself
or perhaps they pick you.
we come from warmth
we come from a distant land
we come to this place that
we now call our home because
we have been here so long
it is just easier to belong
than to pretend we want to
go back
home.
on: doors
I am standing in the middle
between two doors
they are both locked and I have
both keys
I am a curious moon
I swallow the keys whole
and wait until I feel them get tangled up
in the bones of my rib cage
and I will remain here in between these two doors
until I become the key
on: snowglobes
the moment hangs heavy
the grape weighs down the vine
gravity never takes a day off
a girl whispers into the night
a soft prayer, she is on her knees
a mother quietly hums a song
puts her child to sleep
the snow falls quietly outside
we are living in a snow globe
on: sharks
you are a selfish little creature
a crab locked in its shell
a fish hidden within its scales
you are spineless and full of rage
you are a fin above the water
a girl is shouting to her lover
that there is a shark in the water
on: beloved
you will find your beloved
waiting for you
on the shore with the sea to his back
with his arms outstretched
waiting for you
to crash into him.
on: your names
your names are strung around me like
lights on the christmas tree
your names like a prayer on my lips
sacred and holy
young and innocent
old and experienced
we cannot predict the future
we can only do the best we can with what we are given
sometimes we are given roses
and sometimes we are given thorns
we do not have a choice in this matter
I will keep you safe
I will keep your name close to me
your face
remember your smell
your name will echo
we will paint them on the walls of the rooms and the halls
we will remember your names
and your faces
we will fill ourselves with memories of your love.
on: rhyming
there’s something about that bridge
all stone and black and white
wrapped in shadows and smoke
little bursts of light
the water sloshes below
and the cars speed through
and I look up into the sky
and wish on a star for you
then someone turns to me and says hey
don’t you have a clue?
those aren’t stars, they’re satellites winking at you,
I turn to him and roll my eyes
and I say quite defiantly, I don’t care
then I flipped him the bird
and hightailed my ass right out of there.
