Juliet's Reply
You advise I look before I leap
But what is heaven but a dozen missed
Steps? To stumble and fall is ecstasy.
How will I learn the path if I don't stray?
Maybe he's a fuck boy: he's a toxic,
No good son of a bitch and the only
Good he ever did was throw me half a
Flirting smile. Then the next time I will
More clearly measure my own worth against
His. The next time I will be not swayed with
such ease. I will not fall but learn instead
To fly.
From Isolde to Juliet
Think not of love my dear for it will lead
Without question to your own sweet demise
To love is grand, to be sure but instead
Consider the springtime blooming vibrant
About you. The flowers bursting forth from
The earth and the birds' sharp songs in the air.
Take all this in and think of him and then
Remember: this is not worth dying for.
You are the song my roommate and I play
Late in the night, windows open, volume
Turned up as high as it will go, we know
Every word. You make the night time brighter.
You are my favorite striped pajama pants
Such a kind creation, and so stylish
And comforting after the day I've had.
You are the gracious act of coming home.
You are the smell of popcorn in the air
And the noise it makes from the stove
Carried on springtime air from the kitchen
To where I lounge upon my bed, hungry.
You are the smile playing across my lips
When I see you again, you are springtime.
Press ear to earth
And hear the pounding of your heartbeat
Does your mouth ever feel dry
In away that reflect the oncoming climate cataclysm
Are you tired of staring every line in your poem with "I"?
The soles of your feet touch the linoleum floor
But your knees sense the concrete below.
Blood
You put the gay in stargaze
The big dipper is flipping
On its handle come springtime I don't remember
If it's to the north or south
The corners of your mouth and your tender
Smile and I know that I've already
Told you about the stars and they shine and planets twinkle
--Mars is in the western sky but fuck me if I can find it.
In the winter Orion drew me home
Each night but now that spring's come
My inner compass is swinging without
A magnet to draw it north but of course
I'm lost without you and in the daytime there's no stars
And in the springtime I should be in love but
Here we are. Lost and alone.
An ode to Channel
(a poem about things left unsaid in the Fibonacci sequence)
1. Dog
1. Knows
2. How to
3. Swim, but that
5. Doesn't mean she should
8. Be in the pool unsupervised
1. She
1. Won't
2. Drown but
3. That doesn't
5. Mean she won't eat the
8. Pool noodles and chew the filter
This spring I envy the robins
And the way they talk such joy in eating worms
It makes me think of pasta at my father's favorite Italian restaurant
They eat worms like they're claiming springtime
As something that belongs to them
I have a red button down I wear when I want to remember what it's like to be in love
But it's not aerodynamic enough that I can fly in it
And when hawks fly overhead and my friends hide in the bushes
And call their two-toned danger alarm
I leave my red chest and my worm behind
And hide and know that this wait will be over soon.
