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communion

Hold me in your mouth.
Let me rest on your tongue
as my diverse flavors dissolve
gently over your taste buds.
Let me count the ridges
as I conform to the gentle curve
of the roof of your mouth.
Sometimes, change comes quickly
as you chew me up
or swallow me whole.
This time, let it come slowly
as the enzymes break me down.
Hold me, here, in your mouth
where the process begins -
separating the nourishment from the waste -
transforming me patiently, gently.
Hold me here.

treats

After a starless, sleepless night
the rising sun ignites -
toasting me like marshmallow
melting me like milk chocolate
onto your graham cracker body.

Oh, what a treat,
waking up with you.

on the fringes

I am a beetle, clinging
to the frayed hem of a
well-worn shirt sleeve -
made of ancient fibers
sewn together by hands long turned to dirt,
a shirt that's been worn to battles,
weddings, the births of many children
and on the deaths of many bodies,
old and young, passed down through generations -
and I know that I am one with this fabric
but I don't seem to fit between the threads.
So alone, I cling with my well-worn
beetle legs, on the fringes
of a shirt
that might just fall apart soon.

maturity

Maturity is receding waters
walking more easily
feeling more of your own weight
until
as the last drops slide down the drain
it all
suddenly

crashes

over you again.

into joy and laughter

A single thread, a column
rising strong, then breaking
into joy and laughter -
dancing like the river, the bees,
the leaves on the breeze, twirling sufis -
they rise solemn
until they, too, break
into joy and laughter.

Rise above, little darling,
until your broken joy and laughter
fills the room.
Rise, until each space you fill
can no longer contain you.
Grasp onto the beating hearts in the sky
and cry
for fictitious characters,
the people you've always known.
Reach out for every incomplete revelation
and burn
until the scent fills every nostril
and you are one with the vanishing cloud
. . .
and the ashes all fall away
into dots
that children will connect
with their favorite colored crayons
and they, too, will rise, aflame
and then break
into tears
and joy
and laughter.

no longer in love

*Note: This poem is a collaborative piece with my friend Fernando Izaguirre, whom I met at the National Undergraduate Literary Conference in Ogden, UT this past April. He is a very accomplished poet and has been published many places - keep an eye out for his work! One of my favorites of his can be found here. Thanks Fernando, I look forward to writing more together!

My love, I gave you space to breathe,
Window seats and wall-less walkways -
We built this house together,
Full of rooms with pictures of us,
Images that stagnate, forever,
Collecting the dust of our dead cells.
We crashed heads one morning -
Bickering about toothbrush ownership became
Skulls bleeding out like tissue in a carton box,
Made of synthetic fibers,
Wiping counters from end to end,
Leaving behind stained debris.
Needless to say, we are no longer in love -
A word that keeps everyone still,
Stopping the arms of clocks from swinging in the right direction.
Removing the frames from the walls,
Suddenly everything goes in reverse -
The first day I met you,
Walking down Relapse Avenue,
Giving you a smile that made you say “Hello.”
But this time I decided not to,
And there you went, my once-upon-a-time,
You go away - the images fade ever after.