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  • Eighth Grade

    All I knew prior
to eighth grade
were books 
and bible camps.

Now there were lockers
and puberty,
rules and jokes
I didn’t understand. 

There was no one
to catch my fall when flip-flop
slid across spilled water.

No one
to tell me I needed a pass
to use the bathroom.

There was someone 
to ask me if I was gay
when they saw the rainbow 
belt around my waist.

But no one
to tell me to go home
when I got pink eye. 

No one would 
say the word 
sex
but they asked
if I knew about “it”.

I knew all about adultery
and the way desire can hurt a family.

I didn’t know what to do
with my feelings

so I poured them 
into a water bottle.

The lid rattled
on the bumpy 
bus ride home.
    , , , ,

  • Desperation

    I.
In the sun room
a fly is stranded on its back
wings pressed against 
painted blue wood floors
tiny, string-like limbs
flailing at the air.

II.
In the sanctuary
a girl’s head gets light
feet glued against
maroon colored carpet
tiny hairs grow
across her limbs. 

III.
In the spirit
the christians walk by with smiles
up their faces
paying no attention;
the winged creatures
beneath them.
    , , , ,

  • Salad

    One must have a mind of salad
to select a bowl of crunchy greens
mixed with nuts and seeds
as the only course of which to eat;
And there must be a craving for oil,
tangy or creamy, poured over food from the soil
raw and cold, each bite requires teeth and time 
to taste every curl of kale, every crunch of almond, 
every burst of citrus vesicle or pomegranate seed.
Perhaps the softness of bread bore a burden too heavy
or the warmth of baked potato, the strain of spaghetti 
perhaps a sauce dripping sandwich does not fill 
the stomach as much as it appears to fill the soul.
    , ,