Tuesday, February 5, 2013

7 Kinds of Hope

Because there are seven kinds of hope
I hold my breath underwater.
Blue ocean reach the sand,
and broken shells mar the shoreline.

Each alarm clock ends a dream
of place and belonging, or more
accurately, of nothingness.
Take down the houses, we’ve already left.

I still see your face.
Every blue car is a missed
heartbeat.  A caught breath.
between casual and unintended.

When I close my eyes, I can
see where to aim the knives.
Hidden between breaths is a
ladder to the sky.  Don’t let me fall…

I was never meant for this.
My too-earnest heart beats like
a beacon through my chest.
And I see ghosts on the pavement.

Was I ever a woman who could
stare in the mirror without crying?
Tomorrow is a sunrise and a hope
and solid people with shadows.

Hand me the keys, and
Unlock the doors.  Talk without
sighing. Do not turn away
and let the alarms ring.

Sunday, February 3, 2013


My father built a dollhouse.
Painstakingly painted it white and pink.
Carefully wallpapered, with a hinged
roof. There was no sun to
beat down on our dreams.

My apartment smells of old books
and broken promises.
There are far too many ghosts
to outrun.  Mary, Mother of God,
when will I see my face?

If you listen closely,
I can tell you a story that
sounds so real.  Good intentions
can't prevent twisted mirrors. 
Is that me in the reflection?

Sometimes I still see my dollhouse.
In the distance like a mirage.
Tell me, where are the dolls
with their plastic pasted smiles?
Nothing bad can happen…

My aunt used to smell like flowers
and vanilla.  We’d play dress up
with feather boas and long dresses.
She would tell the most beautiful stories,
And play piano while we sang.

Here’s the truth:
I used to hope I would break
Into pieces, like the stars.  That one
Day, I’d explode and be forgotten.
Food will always be an enemy.

My darling- for you there will be no
dollhouses, no perfect worlds without
problems.  Close your eyes.
We will watch the stars together,
Eating bread made by hand.

Saturday, February 2, 2013

To Do List

I live my life in lists- an odd mix
of numbers and letters.  Detailing my hours
with Things to Do. But my life would not
exist without measurement. 

Last week it was transcripts.
#5. Send transcripts to school district.
Paycheck disappears quickly, items
left undone.  Knot in my stomach.

Finished items are a sigh.  Tension
headaches are the norm.  My life is
stretched like taffy pulled too tightly
until every item is accomplished.

But there’s always suffering.
Even with a list cleared of tasks,
there’s a whole list of memories
and ghosts to run from.

I used to be whole. 
I used to stand in silence
and feel my heart beat.
How do I get away?

Friday, February 1, 2013

Day 1

10 Things I Know to Be True

1. Edward Scissorhands makes me cry...every time.

2. I give my heart away far too quickly.

3. A great book makes me lose track of time.

4. There is no day that an old-fashioned letter can't make better.

5.  I expect the worst-- but I cling to the title of Optimist.

6.  My tattoos and scars are a map of my soul.

7.  Everyone has demons, and I'm still running from mine.

8.  I carry a planner because it makes me look organized.

9.  Don't ask me what my life will be like two weeks from now.

10.  Adventure is out there!