Working

Backwards
Stephanie Palmieri

TABLE OF CONTENTS
LOSS JANE VOICES THE NEWS ESCAPE SLOW MOTION TRANSIT WE WAIT DEFLATION 11:00PM MY RETURN THE FIRST NIGHT NOWHERE THE BEGINNING DESCENT REMAINS THE LAST THING HOME RETURN TO THE SKY LOST EMPTY WE ONLY EXIST PROGRESSION GRIEVING SNAPSHOT I LEAVE THE LIGHTS OFF THE ONLY POEM I EVER LET HER READ WE SPEAK NOW 10 MONTHS NIGHT YOUR PHONE RINGS TRAIN HORN SOBS 18 MONTHS TODAY I HELD A BOX OF TAMPONS HOUSE LIGHTS NIGHT WEAVES AND FOLDS I DONT KNOW FACE DOWN SHE WEPT I FEAR SHE SITS IN A PARKING LOT THERAPY 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46

HEALING COURTNEY EMMA AND GRACIE KIM MAUREEN CASSIE SILENCE LISA WE WALK THE LAST RHYTHM EMMA STACY THE MOST PAINFUL MOMENT BARE WHITE WALLS SISTERS REBEKAH KAELA RACHEL COURT UNDERSTANDING MACKENZIE BLAINE WAR SURRENDER ECHOES HOLLOW NOTES THE SKY IS AN OFFERING ACCEPTANCE INSPIRATION IS NATASHA CHARTER HER WINGS PULSES ROBIN
THE

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TEMPO

FOUND POEMS THE TEXTURE OF YOUR LOVE I WANT I WALK HOW OFTEN WHEN THE WIND STOPS WE PRETENDED MY LITTLE GOLDEN ARABIA

LOSS

Jane When they dropped me off At college she plopped Her sunglasses in place To hide her tears. I pressed My body - sweaty from the move Into hers, arms tugging me closer As I wept into her shoulder. She laughed like she did On Christmas morning When I gave her an album Of her favorite pictures From my childhood. It rippled Through the room Like the dusky orange Summer sun when it lights The August sky on fire.

Voices Sitting on the steps, On a California morning, Phone pressed to my ear, We laughed And said I love you The last time We spoke.

The News My phone vibrates In the early California morning. Dad flashes across the screen, I click it off-Hes probably confused About the time change. The buzz returns While I drift through half-sleep. His voice quakes across the line, A tremor that shifts the room So subtly you cannot feel It, until youre jarred from sleep To hear my voice question, tremble, break. My screams erupt to fill the room, The splintered fragments of my voice Pierce your ears until they are muffled By the covers as I hide beneath them, Pull them closer until the balmy hotness of my breath Mixes with tears and leaves me sweaty and vacant. The room fills with people and voices As the house is made aware. I pull The covers tighter, tighter. You talk To my weeping father - he asks you To come home with me, But you already knew you would. You unearth me so I can stagger To the bathroom, sit on the floor, And wait for someone To tell me what to do next.

Escape In the bathroom she peels Her clothes off, just stands While the house comes alive Outside the door, her friends Make frantic phone calls To their parents, talk about her Like she isnt in the next room. She lingers at the mirror, Leans across the sink, nose almost Pressed to the glass, to stare Into her own eyes - pupils large Inside their muddy hazel rim Wonders what she will see If she gets the chance to look again. In the shower she lets the water burn Hot until the glass walls are fogged. The jet stream pounds Between her shoulder blades, red splotches Spread across pale skin. Hands mechanical As they grind a washcloth over her arms. The tears come in the heat, released Like the steam that rises around her, She sinks down, hands over her face And in the waters rhythmic drumming Weeps like a lost child.

Slow Motion Transit Fingers fumble Over suitcase zippers, Shoelaces, seat belt Buckles as I spin, But theres a zip, And a knot, And a click I can hardly feel As faces melt To my periphery And emptiness expands To fill my horizon.

We Wait At LAX people flow around us As our bodies slump down In plastic chairs, the armrest firmly divides us. My phone vibrates into life again, Again. (It only took a few hours For my mothers death to travel Across the country and back) Kalynns hardened voiceThe first to reach me- cracks as it echoes Through the phone. Her effort to fight back Tears only makes them ooze From my already swollen eyes. Her words resonate reality Through my atrophied mindI erase the message As soon as she says goodbye. After hours in the same position We get up, our vacant seats filled When we return, McDonalds bags in hand. We take two empties by a wall of windows. A child skips over, gapes at our luggage As it rides a conveyor belt into the belly Of the plane. Her mother kneels behind her. I stuff my half eaten cheeseburger Back into its bag on the floor, stumble To the bathroom, lost in the row of stalls. I stand between the toilet and the locked door. The minutes fill with flushes, the rush Of sink water, the snap of paper towel dispensers And at last a stilted silence a single moment of no Movement. I return to you. We wait.

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Deflation Plane seats shutter in her launch To another reality. She is weightless But the planes heavy body lumbers With her added burden. California drops Out below her, undulates as she ripples over it, Shut out by plastic windows, a corridor of clouds. The plane races further and further From Californias salty breezes, the rustle Of orange trees in backyards and puffed pinks Bursting outside of houses. She spirals Towards Pennsylvanias sodden earth, A stench of soon dead flowers Blooming in temporary warmth With withered petals, silent In their half-thawed decay. Weather pushes the plane back, it circles Philadelphia, dizzy as she drops To different altitudes. She leans Across her friends lap, the armrest Cuts into her stomach. The plane slows as its wheels touch down But her world still spins with her first steps Out of the plane, into the stale airport And her fathers raw embrace.

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11:00 pm Yost Road unfolds before us, Light seeps out the windows, Engulfs the car as we edge Into the driveway, the squeaky pitch Of brakes as they grind into place. It blankets the grass, exposes The grime of a basketball net That hasnt been used in years. It melts the colors of the shutters, The siding, the porch, until the house turns Grey. Inside the light is dulledThe house, clogged with bodies, Lurches with each step. We are funneled Into the kitchen, stuck like insects On flypaper, wings twitching, Legs vainly tugging at the sticky parchment That suctions us closer with every movement As giant eyes peer down to assess our situation. We sit and wait to be discarded.

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My Return My aunt and uncle weave tight circles Around the kitchen - wipe the counter, Open the refrigerator, wipe the counter, Close the refrigerator-rummage, remove, rearrange The food that people brought us. Their movement blurred as I stare Into the black-hole backyard. They bring me half A bagel. My fingers stay tangled beneath my chin As eyes trace patterns on a roll of paper towels Until my teeth break the bagel like a steam shovel Through rock. My only bite crumbles as I finally swallow So I can slip from the kitchen, retreat to the cool darkness Of my bedroom floor to sit, between a full suitcase And a pile of dirty clothes, in the last seconds Of the first day without her.

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The First Night We lie side by side In my bed On the night after her death. He trembles As he gropes For my hand, The raging storm Upon us. Silent tears Shake the bed Like underwater tremors When the earth ruptures Beneath the surface. I plummet through folded hours Where four a.m. is the same As eight, or ten Except the whole world sleeps While we shuffle Through the house, rummage For comfort in the television That fills our silence As day appears in light Through closed curtains. The doorbell rings Before we speak And the sky turns black Before we find ourselves Alone again, on repeat.

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Nowhere The Swede Square shopping center Parking lot - our home For the moment Buzzes with weekend morning traffic. Cars drive in. People get out. They shop. They eat. Their routine forces the world To spin. We sit in my fathers truck. Face the road. The sky hangs Like a swollen belly, Clouds burst with blackness As we wait in silence. We shift in the cold, Our bodies stiff From the first night Without her. We both want Home but the infestation Of people and smells That arent my mother Has already begunThey feast Like maggots On a rotting carcass Eager for a taste Of grief. We are consumed In thoughts Of extermination As we watch strangers Swarm around us In the parking lot. The blocky neon numbers Of the radio clock changeIs this how slowly Time will pass?

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The Beginning The parlor door opens, a mesh Of hospital hallway and den light Envelopes us as we edge Into a mock dining room Where decisions get made. The director sits at the head, hands glossy Catalogs of caskets and urns to my father, The pages fall open in front of me. Do you think shed like this one? My eyelids droop shut, The scene is still the same When I pry them open. Thick pockets Of flesh bulge beneath my eyes Like the swollen skin of a baby Fresh from the womb. How did I get put in charge of this? I page through pamphlet templates People will need something to hold While they wait to see us. Her face will hover between a flawless shell And waves that spread along a shoreline. I pick it knowing shed think it was tacky. Would she be just another face?

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Descent In the funeral home parking lot My fathers truck growls Like a wounded dog As daylight disappears And heat diffuses When he cuts the engine. We pause, Hold the last moment We will ever claim as ours Before the doors echo shut behind us. In the front hall no one looks At each other. We face the corridor Like Orpheus Before his descent to Hades, The dark cave open before us, We step into blackness To find her in the depths. The wails and sobs Behind us obscured by her face, Not peaceful. Her skin is cold When I finally touch her, First with my fingertips Then my lips. My father strokes her head, The wrinkled packets of flesh Beneath his bloodhound eyes Suddenly pronounced. His whole life slips away In her latex hands And deflated lips, and in that touch The pomegranate wife calls her back, Banishes us from the depths of hell To the frozen earth.

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Remains He took the wedding band From your finger When everyone left And we stood puffy eyed In the front hall Of the parlor. He held out a tin To show us What was left of you. The gold winked Up at us. I pressed my thumbs To the tin As I cupped it In both hands In the truck. Later, when I sat On my bed I held the gold circle In my palm, Index finger passing over Each groove And knick The solidness Reminded me Of your smile And the roundness Of your hug. I put the band on a chain, Fastened it Around my neck, And cried.

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The last thing She ever gave me Was a hug.

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Home You click your dorm door shut, Sit backwards in your desk chair To face me. My feet dangle Off your bed as I run my hands Over your favorite stuffed dog, The matted shag soft on my skin. You let me sit in silence Until it morphs into our creation Of eyes and Is, our voices returned In this wordless expanse. I look at the picture of your cousin, Her young face presses a smile into her boyfriend. I wonder what you used to talk about Before the crash. I speak. I run My thumb over my palm, flick my watch Band, tug my ear as I stutter. You bite your bottom lip. Four a.m. is sleep deprived and desperate. We lie in your bed, the fan ripples A layer of fragmented calm in the dark. I drift in time to your even breathing And press my arm to yours.

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Return to the Sky Newark airport looms grey As the team bus drifts closer. You stay near me - my shaking leg And restless hands the cue You always follow. Our gate floods Into others - a giant circled sea of bodies. I plunge in without you, come up Against the glass. Eyes swallowed By the black of night, the dots of red and blue Along the runways, our plane docked, waiting. I see your reflection in the window As you sift through the bodies With your eyes, call me When you cannot find me. I wait, Like a surfer just before a giant waveOpen water rolling beneath me, it surges At my back as you glide toward me. Over a months worth of tears Leak from me when you sit On the window ledge. I press my leg to yours from my seat On the floor and let you face the others For me as I hold my head and stare Into the night.

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Lost She found me On the motel balcony Shivering in shopping center light, Wrapped in concrete, Swollen eyes scanning Unmarked doors Between sweatshirt sleeves. In her socks and T-shirt, Sweatpants rolled at her calf, Hair jostled by loose wind, She waited - backed by steal rail, Eyes clear in the dark. The words melted As they plunged From my mouth to splatter On the pavement, Ricochet back On my ceramic skin. The minutes fell away Like interrupted dreams Until our doors closed To leave me alone In the slick darkness Of my motel room.

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Empty I lie in bed Stare at nothing On the wall, Every brain cell Shutting down As I curl Into emptiness. The creases beneath my eyes Fold and darken As the day ends And silent night hours Slip away Like a breeze On a sun scorched day, Carry me closer To uncertain, Eyes-open Eternity.

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We only exist In the space without Words - an elongated look, A raised eyebrow, A fidgety knee Bouncing in the middle Of class. Our words Sharp, like an instrument Out of tune, cut Through synchronized Moments. But I knew When I leaned into you At the ceremony Where they planted a tree In her memory Your arm would be there You had already quietly shifted Closer so I could press Into you, feel The pulse of our loss Course through you While the others pretended To feel it when they took my hand To shake it, or leaned in For an off balance hug. You hovered near me So the others felt Like intruders When they tried to break Our stance, and introduced Yourself when I couldnt find The right words in the reproach That raged inside my mind, Pressing hard to be released From the choke hold I gripped it with.

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Progression I. In mid-night exhaustion My father would hold me on the couch, The steady drum of his heart Carrying me to infant sleep, His thick hand the base of my cocoon, His exhales like swells in the sea. II. Weekends in his workshop-Sting And The Beatles the soundtrack For our creation(s)-his blueprints Steadily grew off the page, My curly hair flopped over scraps Of wood, full sized hammer striking Nails. My coat of sawdust was sweet and piney In the delicate half-light only he could manage Amidst the grind of machinerys metal teeth. His broad surgeons hands deftly split Wood, weaved it together again. III. My headphones on, the radio off. A steady silence and the highways rhythm The ebb and flow of cars as they curved And straightened around us - filled the space Between us. The pulse of taillights My highway lullaby. Hed nudge me awake When we eased into the driveway. IV. In my last semester we talk everyday But havent spoken in months. We meet for dinner, one of us always Invites my friends. When the bill comes He pulls out his glasses, pen scribbles Tip calculations on his folded napkin. He puts money down and hands me forty, Drops me off at my apartment

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And goes back to Blue Bell. When he hugs me I can feel him swallow tears. We feel The words But cannot speak them we are not ok.

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GRIEVING

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Snapshot I am the only one she sees. My child eyes wide as they scan the candles on the cake, my palms flat against the tabletop. I am consumed in white and pink icing, the flicker of two candles, my wish. Mid clap her grin widens, head angled so she faces only me. She waits, ready to enfold me in her arms, clutch me to her chest and erupt in the boom of laugher I will later come to know as my own.

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I leave the lights off When I step into the shower Cold water freefall Down my naked body In the dark. I think Of nothing in particular. Downstairs the couch breathes Heat, and I lie sweat-soaked Static, sprawled and sticky In the heaving humidity. Your van pulls up, I say my goodbyes. In the car your smile Is as rolling green And wide as the farms And hills we drive past On the back roads home.

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The Only Poem I Ever Let Her Read The Morning You Left The world kept moving. We stood still. Porch boards groaned beneath our weight In the cold. (I wondered if I would have to force myself to cry.) The street melted As I pulled you closer, pressed your body Further into mine. Hugs were never you thing, But you always let me mold you, pry your arms From off your chest, refuse to let them dangle at your sides, Squeeze you till it felt like home. You let me stand, Propped against you as arms tucked and folded, Faces close enough to hear each other breathe. You let me hold you. I felt your chest rise with a sigh Like fireworks that ignite the sky and fade Before we know theyre done, flickering a last goodbye.

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We speak now In tiny moments: The movement of wings As they expand To fill the sky, Single droplets of water That perch on wide, green leaves, And the smell of her perfume In a crowded place.

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10 Months Time spun, Strung out Like a web, Thin spindles Etched on air.

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Night Night insect sounds pulse as nature breathes In wing beats - the steady hum of daylight dying. Body eases into darkness but mind seethes With unseen sorrows, buried deep amidst the crickets crying. Chest rising, sinking; eyes burned closed By ceaseless waking hours - kindling for my dreams; No longer ash - no voice but constant breath flows From your reinstated lungs. In this place it seems Possible that I can touch your skin, you hold me As your child - small, protected - alarm rings, mind rages To repel the sun, eyes close tighter, my plea Ignored as light pours in, your warmth fades Back to blackness beyond this severed night, And I am left enshrouded in my solitary blight.

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Your phone rings And rings As I swallow Back tears That pulsate At the back Of my throat, Rise slowly Like vomit. When your recorded Voice sounds Across the line I slide the phone From my ear And snap it shut, Place it near my head On the blankets. I stare at the dark Screen until I cry Myself to sleep

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Train horn tugs At cold night air As it echoes Through the darknessLong low moans Stretch across her As she lies in bed Between the comforter And blackness. Air expands and shrinks Around her as the train pulls Away, its voice fainter With each unanswered call.

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Sobs like drops of wax On a candle Whose flame has freshly expired. My tight smoky sighs Leave lips in thin coils. My heart pounds Irregular pulses Beneath covers Pulled taught Around my head, The heat of my breath Softly smothers me I breathe it in And silently suffocate.

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18 Months I still cry At unexpected moments In the car On the way To the grocery store, Making my lunch Before work, drunk On the steps Of a friends apartment Or on the bathroom floor. I still weep Until my eyes are swollen, Until my chest heaves, Until the effort Of crying cradles me Slowly, thickly, darkly Into sleep.

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Today I held a box of tampons You bought me Before you died. I eased my hands Over the edges You once held As you pulled it off The shelf, dropped it In the cart, tucked it Away till you sent me back To school. The blue cardboard stiff In my hands As I nestled the box Into my underwear drawer.

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The house lights are on But I keep driving. The night is narrow, Sleek, an unwinding road That coils back Into itself again. I sit in a parking lot, Breathe deep And exhale The need To smash something Beautiful and whole And fragile As my scorched tears Surge forward In a veil Of veiny redness.

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Night weaves and folds, Dreams bring me back To you. I clutch you In our driveway, aware That I am dreaming, That this will be the last place I can press my cheek Into your warm skin. Death will come When I awakeEyelids flicker, flutter open A sharp pain presses Against my chest, heart Shudders as I draw Slow breaths in rhythm With cicada song The steady hum of wings Rubbing. I lie - semi conscious Limbs locked, eyes scan Blank wall as I try to hold you In my mind but your warmth fades And I am fully awake.

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I do not know What to pray for In the thin hours That line the darkness. In the tight-chest Space just before One minute changes To the next I see her In dreams Like sheer curtains. I wait For sleep To carry me away From sounds And sights And smells That are not her.

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Lying face down On the dining room floor I press my eyes Into the crook Of my arm And sob Giant tangled Twisted up Wrecking ball Tears that come From nowhere And dissolve In the cloth Of my shirt As if They never existed.

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She sat in her car and wept. The windows reverberated sadness, She sucked air in violently, shuddered staccato breaths in return, slammed the wheel, pounded its firm softness with her fist as she expunged a guttural growl, Wanting to cry harder, more. Instead She covered her mouth to slow the shutters so she could breathe. The heavy sobs that raked her body purged months of choked back tears, slender loaded silences glossed over by a topic change, thoughts pushed sideways out of immediate view. The air inside the car, heavy with regret, stung with the chilled precision of an almost winter night - the air that prematurely pulls fiery leaves from their spindly tree connections to their brown demise, flattened by a treaded tire or crushed beneath the steady pressured weight of its brothers. She pawed her face, sweatshirt sleeves sloppily mopped the salt and moisture, left swollen red stains on the tender skin below her eyes.

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I Fear The loss Of the jingling of keys At the front door When he closes it On his way to the kitchen, Text messages that read: I love you, and hand written notes with misspelled words.

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She sits in a parking lot, street lights illuminate the tears, the glisten of snot her eyes and nose spew sadness into (the) patchy darkness. She prays For help Half sobbing, Half choking On the mucus stuck At the back of her throat. She is lonely. She's tired. She clicks open the door, the phlegm splatters wet and globby like a jellyfish just washed ashore. In the silence of the car her words echo across the glass. "Help me" she wails "Help me". "Please help me God, please." The last call for help a whisper. Gravel crackles beneath The tires as she merges Into a stream of headlights And blackness.

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Therapy Today I cried In therapy. I didnt want The tears to come But I could feel Them pressing, surging Forward with an urgency I didnt recognize, A quick sharp impulse Of full wet sloppy tears That I soaked up With my fingertips Before they could spread Across my skin And stain my face With raw red splotches In a right-there-too-close tangible reality Of everything I always want To say but never do, Of all the words I want Just for me, My minds possessions Now pinched between my fingertips And closed eyelids. I could not speak. I knew the words Would leave my body Ravaged, restless, raw I could feel the loss Of control devouring me, Slowly, then suddenly. The image of my mother Coming sharply into focus, Then all the parts of her That Ive forgotten Spilling across her face In black bulky patches That cancel her out and fill me With a need To sob great heaving tight-chest sobs, To be held and rocked and soothed By the light touch of a hand On my back, moving in the circles

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And rows she used to make When I couldnt sleep. For a moment I am consumed By the quick tug and release Of my muscles, the disconnect Between my body and my brain. I feel the careful winding up Of anger, coiled like a giant spring The pressure growing, My metal muscles moaning for release, For the relief of a full-bodied Violent purging of thoughts And emotions in a sloppy Snot-filled breakdown. I imagine my fingers coiled around a bat And I am smashing everything That will break Beneath my hands, made steady By the shattering of something fragile, Splinters of wood and glass That I hope will cut me As they surge around me. Then I am back In this room, breathing slowly. I avoid her eyes - those deep sharp clear blue Eyes that make me feel Like she can see something in me That I dont want to know. When every part of me Is laced in the space between us, When there is nothing left To say, I sit in silence, Afraid that if I look too long There will be nothing left Of me, afraid That she will see too deep Too far too close, And in that single glance I will disappear.

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HEALING

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Courtney I. In line outside the church; Grays and blacks on clothes That matched the sky. We inched toward the door. The once gold doorknob Worn copper smooth By numb unnumbered hands. Spiced apple incense Enveloped me as I stepped inside. The pews spread out In a stained glass tunnel And you were at the end. The receiving line stretched Across the church front You were buried in the middle. My heart pumped faster And faster, pushed out Against my deep slow breaths As I shuffled to you, The skin around my eyes Already stiff from the salt Of half-dried tears. You clutched family Long arms wrapped around them I clutched the pue; Its smooth wooden side Up the length of my leg.

II. I stood back as you hugged A teammate. One step And I held you As hard as I could, Squeezed tighter until I felt You sigh, pulled closer When you whispered

Its crazy. I barely breathed I know. Our pain summed up In four words and a hug. During mass the collective eyes Were on the priest but I watched You. You pressed the corners Of your eyes to stop the tears Before they fell. Your arm around Your father until you stood to speak. I prayed you could get the words out. You told us how your mother held you As a child and danced. I wept. I stared at the crucifix. At the casket. At you. The priests smoky incense curled Around our heads as he blessed The casket that we followed Down the isle. Outside I couldnt tell If it was the cold air that made me Shiver, or the thought of you Without your mother. Or me, Without mine.

III. At the graveyard we marched Over the dead to her tent. You took Your place on the green cloth seats Beside her casket. Outside the tent four caged doves Rustled their white wings, Climbed the bars as the Priest's words tumbled Off your body. You moved To the cage. You held a dove, Firmly, like your mother would have Hugged you, and released it With a low sob. Her wings stretched out,

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Gripped the air as she pumped them Up and down. Her delicate power Mimicked by the others as they rose In the sky and flew in an arc Over us around the cemetery. We watched Them silently wing away To a place we could never reach. You touched the casket lid As you gently inhaled the breath Of a rose its delicate life force Trembled in your fingertips Before you set it down Just above the place Your mothers hands rested. You said goodbye In the best way you knew how. You stood outside the tent, Eyes vacant as you searched The sky for answers, for a sign. I hesitated. You stood alone Encircled by family and friends, waiting For someone to emerge from the unblinking mass With answers or directions but no one moved To you. While I held you I could feel The hole inside you expand, Darken, plunge deeper And hoped I would be enough.

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Emma and Gracie I pulled up to their gate already knowing there had been a death eyes wide, brows wrinkled phones pressed tight to their ears, bodies slackened but faces streaked with tiny movements - spillover from their bursting brain cells. We sat in the car, open road and perpetual darkness ahead, traffic morphing around us on the slick highway, the drag and screech of the windshield wipers faded behind our busy silent minds. Gracie sat behind me, muted movements brought her face to the glass. She stared blankly at the night sky and the cars that sped around us to their destinations. Emma, motionless beside me, was lost in the curved patterns of light that danced before us, echoed around us like the faded notes of a once loved song. Sometimes she would inhale a slow breath and crumble into herself as she breathed out. The silence that bound us made me feel like I was running up a set of stairs 52

in the dark. I tugged my earlobe as I pieced together the words that were too familiar I wasn't sure they were ready instead I placed my hand at the base of Emma's neck, my thumb in the groove of her shoulder, I hoped words would somehow follow. As we pulled up to the toll the cold air that broke on our faces made us stretch our limbs and turn to each other for the first time. I reached back and felt for Gracie's hand. A thin half smile teetered on my lips. Our fingers mingled, a pulse of sadness passed between them. I turned to Emma. Even though her large pupils were lost in the blackness I could feel her penetrating gaze tremble beneath the weight of imagining death. As I rolled the window up I stuttered my first words, Lost in the words of death we found peace our minds purging every question, every thought until the too sudden squeal of brakes pronounced that we were back at school. 53

We unfolded our bodies to stand outside the car, the chilled air no longer pleasant as it stung our bare faces. I pulled Gracie to me, my arms wove through her bags to rest firmly on her back I held her for a few breaths. I moved to Emma, tucked her in my arms, my head rested firmly on her shoulder. After a sigh I reluctantly let my arms drop to watch them move toward the door and away from my embrace.

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Kim Your mother held me in the kitchen Like I was her daughter My body absorbed into hers, Her arms tugging me tighter.

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Maureen I. You sat next to your mom. The way your mouths edged Simultaneously up Into the same grin Made me ache. When she looked At you her eyes grew warm And deep and concentrated. She spoke brightly About your birth, Her voice singsonging Through the memory of pain And pleasure The soundest satisfaction. While your brow wrinkled In child embarrassment Mine creased - I would never feel My mother look at me The same way again. Her stories lost in fire And ash and the dark Depths of death.

II. Outside the cab She squeezed you Her eyes already Oozing tears. As she backed into her seat She gazed at you And as we turned To walk away The air felt colder. III. When I sat on the bleachers below her She let her legs fall to the sides. Before I could turn she gently tugged Me into her, my back rested

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Firmly on her legs, Her thighs. Without hesitation She pulled my hair tie out and worked Her fingers through my curls, Weaved brown strands through and around Each other. Each time her fingers Ran the length of my head To add another piece Of hair to the braid An ache passed through me. I knew if I turned around I wouldnt see The face that I imagined. As she tucked the braid into my hood I wanted Her to hold me. Later when she pulled me toward her In the kitchen I let my head fall Into her body. Her hand rested firmly On my shoulder as she held me To her, speaking softly. With each gentle squeeze I could feel A burning white hotness build Behind my eyes. Tears threatened To consume me. When she hugged me I clung Onto her; my fingers straining Not to grip too tightly. With my chin pressed into her Shoulder I prayed That she wouldnt let go. Her body contracted Me closer - A pulse Up the length of her arms, Through my back, into my brain. I pulled away. Blinked hard. Instead of rolling back into her Arms, trembling, I stood, Hands in pockets, And smiled. I had to Look away from her face To stop myself from breaking Down, and in that instant I knew that she would save me.

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IV. The night is wine glass Amber liquid swirling softly; Cascading, tumbling, Dark cricket song, And muffin crumbs On a small white plate. She looks at me Across the table. I fray a water bottle wrapper Between my thumb and forefinger As she speaks. The kitchens yellow glow Pushes out against The unembellished blackness Outside, leaving us Space to speak to each other The way we wish We always could have spoken To the people we have lost, The ones that we are losing Her daughter Slowly slipping Out of reach, Receding into her own Dark, tangled core. My mother dead. The roundness of the table like a clock, The curves of it bringing us together And keeping us apart. Time is our centerpiece That grows and swells In the shape of lost memories As seconds plunge into minutes And still deeper into hours. We travel back and back and back Together twisting, stories twined, Misty memories surfacing In our minds and spilling Out across the table Like grains of sand

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Or diamonds, scattered Between us, glittering Amid the placemats, Pages of the daily news, The mail, a plate of food. As we talk I hold on To the feeling That I am spinning backward Off my chair a dizzy misery Of all the things I never get to say. But as I speak A hesitation lingers in her Slow sad smile, plain and blunt It slips silently across her lips Without her ever knowing I can see it. The thrill Of dizzy freefall spinning, The tiny throb and pulse Of lightheadedness from sharing Everything I had been clutching Firmly to me, fell quickly away As I realized that I would be replaced. Slowly, then suddenly her face Became the one place I could Not look. I knew I could never Remain the sole receiver Of her maternal gaze, The look I had been craving, The look that made me Feel like my mother Was in the room, The look that made me feel Like heeling could be possible If I could only hold tight To this moment.

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Cassie I. I wandered through the dining hall, eyes burning to release the tears I blinked back all day. I stumbled Into you. Without a pause you wrapped your arms around me, tugged me to you. I let my head fall to your shoulder as you cradled me and I buried my face in your curls. Your voice reminded me to breath.

II. When I pulled up You were already walking Toward me. As I rolled the window down You shook your head and motioned, Arms open, for me to get out. I wondered how you always knew When I needed To be held. I slid into your embrace And sighed. We talked Like this sometimes, bodies pressed Together, ears connected. When we spoke Our words vibrated through each others bodies. Sometimes I dont know what to say, You told me, so I say it through a hug. III. I stood behind you In the field house As you stooped To pick up equipment. No one had followed you. I waited Until you turned So I could search your eyes. You walked toward me And I slipped my arms Around you. You felt 60

Small pressed against my body, My arms wrapped around Your back, squeezing, Hands forming Gentle circles. I pulled you to me As tightly as I could When I felt your broken sobs Course through my body. I hoped In my arms you would find stillness.

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Silence Darkness settles around us, Drifts through trees To where we sit at a picnic table. The fire sizzles beside us, Illuminates our faces, reflects Off beer cans. Our three voices Mesh and meld like embers With fibers of wood. We talk About a friends fatherHis latent cancer returned To devour him, slowly. Silence creeps Around my tears until we are consumed By the buzz of insects. Wood melts to smoldered ash. The cling Of smoke on clothes is thick As we unravel the fire with water And gravel to leave us groping In the blackness, we stumble To our tent to lie in solid darkness.

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Lisa The shades are drawn only a sliver of dying Light seeps across my face as I lie On my stomach in bed, covers spread Smooth beneath me. The door clicks open as you come inside, climb over me without words, wedge between the wall and my body. Our breath slides in and out Across bare arms, my face buried, Your eyes gently fixed on me. I shatter The darkness with suffocated sobs, The sloping heave of my back shutters With each broken breath. You place your head on my back, press Deep, head rises with each sharp inhalation And we crash through the spotted silence. You place your arm across me And we drift calmly Through the shadowy, silent, Dust-speckled afternoon.

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We Walk The soft padding Of our feet On grass Becomes the cadence Of our unuttered secrets. Stories of our mothers Deaths come as smoothly As the windswept bends In stalks of corn That line our path. Sweat rolls in freefall From our bodies Summer scented Sweet and musky. The earth bleeds Dusty green and brown As drops collect like tears In swelling clouds, Engorged and heavy, Rolling in currents That sweep the valley. You speak in tempo With the pulse and swell Of insect song A machined trill That cuts the heat In time with our footfalls. The release Is green and dark Like the moment Just before a summer storm, The sky crackling with thunder, The earth firm and lush.

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The hotel room bulged With the force of our words. Arms folded across my chest, I refused to wipe my tears. Instead I let them plummet To the carpet. The silence Was sharp. I couldnt stand The stillness. The silence Made them right somehow But I knew my truth Was buried beneath The unspoken words. I left No key, just a forceful click And I was flowing Down the hallway. No one followed. I urged my feet forward, faster. On the elevator I willed the door to close Before they could break Out of the silence To find me. All I needed Was a head start, I knew I could run If I had to. In the lobby bathroom I clicked the stall door shut And perched, gargoyle like On the toilet seat. When footsteps echoed closer I swung my legs up, Propped like a gymnast. I held my breath When the door opened. Even when the door swung shut, I didnt move. I stayed my legs And arms, stared at the stall door And breathed.

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The Last Rhythm The music Of conversation, Rhythmic footsteps, Boombox beats, The clack of bike tires, And the heavy breath Of dogs trails us As we alternate Through shadows And the delicately thick Silence that radiates Between us. As we edge Toward the end Of our walk I can feel The tears swell Like a bulging wave About to break And curl Over top of itself, To crash Onto its own Deep blue surface. When you hold me My tears dissolve Into your T-shirt, Splatter to the pavement. I rub my raw red Eyes. The street smears As I slip Down an alley To find the car And leave you.

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Emma I. When I left D.C. I knew I needed You. Your face in my mind before my thoughts Were fully formed. I clutched my phone As I waited for your response. The road Poured past in a current Of concrete, smeared yellows, rough browns, A sea of brake lights streaked By tear drop rhythm. At school I waited for you In a small room I sometimes studied in. I feigned work until you sat down. You seemed unsure Of what I might say Or how you would make me better. We sat Facing each other. Instant brief panic Swept over me when I realized You would see me cry: tears generated before I could repress them. As I spoke Your eyes swallowed my trembling Words, my raw emotions Your brow fell into a gentle crease Of concern. I let it wash over me As I gave in, gave up Control and let you hold me With your gaze your ever changing Tawny, speckled, wide engaging eyes; The purity of their concern. You could sense the core of me Was close. My lips thinned Into each other, shoulders set In a permanent shrug as I exposed My fears. My vacant unfamiliar voice Swirled around the room. You waded Through the pool of silent spoken words

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To give me the one thing you knew I needed - you wrapped your arms around me. I hated to walk away From you. Your aura always expanded Out to cradle me in it, like a mother Holds her frightened child Who has slowly grown More alarmed by bedroom shadows Smiling monster grins. As I paced home I felt Bare without the intensity of your eyes on me. In my room I lay in bed waiting, wanting To curl into nothingness. II. As tears Slid down my face, Soaked into my skin And sweatshirt sleeves, You put your hand On my shoulder And squeezed. III. You spoke To your younger sister, Who held your gaze The edges of her Mouth turned up To match your smile As she pointed To her glasses, Flipped them up From her nose And laughed. IV. You nestled Between your mother And the couch arm,

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Head angled Over hers As you brushed the hair Back from her forehead When she spoke. You both quietly shifted During conversation Until your legs rested Gently on her lap Beneath the covers.

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Stacy I. The first time We met I thought You were older than me. Hair cropped Just above your jaw line, Messenger bag slung Over your shoulder. You moved Around the circle Of friends, Hugging each in turn. When you looked at me You hesitated, unsure Of who I was. But when I reached out to hug you, You pulled me close And held me. II. My leg bounced As I took in the familiar Scene of your dorm room: The uneven lighting offset By an explosion of colors That splattered the walls On posters, and scattered clothes That dangled on chair backs. You spread a pile of magazines In front of me And set the decoupage glue Beside them. I dont have anything to work on. I mumbled as I hunched into myself. You rummaged Through your bag, pulled out a large red notebook and set it in my hands. Your smile Pushed every thought

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That made me Spontaneously cry, Out of my head. Movie dialog Expanded to fill The space Our words did not. My legs finally rested As I arranged Magazine clippings On the floor, smiled Like a child. I could sense You didnt know What to say To make me better, So we crafted. We laughed. We let the movie Fill our comfortable silence And on the floor of your dorm I felt almost normal. III. At a sports bar In Manhattan My legs dangled Over yours, Our bodies crammed Into a too-small booth. As you spoke To a friend You let your fingers Slowly spread Through mine, Our hands Curled together, Gentle warmth Spiraling between us. I sipped my beer And smiled.

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IV. As we laid in your bed I asked if you would spoon me. You turned on your side And draped your arm over me. Your warmth Lulled me to sleep.

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The Most Painful Moment Outside the ice cream shop Your words were stuck Behind your lips, thick in your throat As you stirred your ice cream, Stared at the mush You were making. You fumbled Over the words of your past. Your brow creased Each time you tried to speak Half-words until they finally plummeted From your lips. I could not find the words As we walked. Come here I managed As I tugged your arm And pulled you to me; you felt Small in my arms as you sobbed. I stared at the pavement; It melted into a frenzied swirl Of lights and street noise That faded behind the sound Of your pain pouring Onto my sweatshirt. Your choked sobs released, Carried away on the night air That drifted above the city. In the car I kept my hand On your back as you spoke The secrets you held tight To you unraveling. As blackness pressed in Around us You looked straight ahead, Eyes filling with tears that snaked Smooth paths down your cheeks In the dark.

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As we eat And talk You look away, But when your eyes Meet mine They are bare White walls And the last box In an empty room.

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Sisters She held you Close, squeezed Deep and rocked You as she angled Her mouth to your ear And whispered Words meant only For you.

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Rebekah You almost say what you mean But you swallow back your intent, The promise of it lost In the reckless whipping of your hair In an early summer night wind That draws your fingers to your forehead To tug away the strands that play there. Each time you look up And away I see you For the first time The blueness of your eyes Changing you Right in front of me. I cannot look away, Even when your gaze bends Beneath my scrutiny. Its when you look away That the rhythm Of the coming night Is echoed in your light touches On the wooden tabletop, A drumming like the first drops Of spring rain. When I ask about your life You tell me about a faith You love wholly, believe Without proof, speak About without guile, a faith Weighed down and bolstered By years of sand and sin, Stains and statues in ornate Buildings you tell me You sometimes struggle. I arch my back and sit up straight When you look right at me And ask when I feel close to God

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Kaela When our friends left The party I sat on your stairs And sobbed Deep snot-soaked sobs. The alcohol no longer Cloaked the pain. You sat beside me, Your body gently Pressed to mine, And kept your hand On my back As I cried.

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Rachel I. As we push through Heavy metal doors You open your umbrella, Its vinyl flesh expanding Out around its thin fingered Frame, deflecting Cool pellets of rain As we walk You tug my body Close to yours, Loop your arm through mine And hold me against you As we side step puddles.

II. I sit at your kitchen table. The light is low and liquid Yellow, dark and cavern deep. Your back to me As you lean over the counter, Hair falling across The shoulders Of your dark green Long sleeve T-shirt, Smokey blue-jean legs Planted firmly As you crack eggs Into a bowl, toss The shells into the sink. At the stovetop Blue-orange flames like melted dreams Flicker up around the pan Ignite a slow soft sizzle Of butter and egg and cheese Rising in currents That mingle mid-air With the warm lush Thrum of your voice In long twisting ribbons

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Of Latin rhythms As I watch you work I wonder If I will ever be As grown up As you are In this moment

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Court A New Rhythm Rises In the crackle of gravel Underfoot as we chart a course Across the park, a childs laughter Spills across a small beach as he splashes In the last clear moments Of a hazy mid-summer day. As we walk you talk About sailing, our bodies Falling in step with the tune Of your words, light and quick, A wide smile edges across your face. In the car I ease into my seat As you take the helm, Fingers wrapped gently Around the steering wheel. You reach For the CD player. The thrum and pulse Of notes that rise and fall In rolling waves Marks the cadence Of our conversation, Lines the space Between us, expands In one wide sweep to fill A moment without Words. You sing. I glance sideways to watch Your lips form around the words Your voice, the soft strum Of guitar string heartbeats, Rides the current Of each low note, blends With the singers voice, swells With chords the shade and depth Of your wide blue eyes Now more pronounced In the post storm twilight That engulfs the car. Outside the world ripples In a rain-streaked rhythm

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Of greens and browns That melt and drift and disappear As quickly as they rise around us. As we drive I want You to fill the space With the ships and choppy seas Of your childhood memories. When you speak I cannot help but smile, And like the sun That edges around The gray clouds Of our horizon, I can feel The lilting notes Of our combined laughter Slowly open, deepen, Etch a new pattern Into the thick chords Of an old song made new.

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Understanding We walk into The old band room, Multicolored desktops gleaming Faint and forgotten In the mid-morning Sun that streams Through long block windows. I pick a cluster in the corner, I like nooks I tell you As we move closer To a triangle of desks. I expect You to sit across from me But when I turn to face you You have slid softly Into the seat next to mine, Already talking Like we are old friends. I smile. I open up My notebook for you, Flip through it. We marvel at its chaos, The inverse of my compulsively organized Assignment sheets. You doodle you smirk, A hint of pleasure in your voice. You place a packet of poetry On your desk. In those anxious Furrowed eyebrow moments Before you begin To read I feel More like a sister Than your teacher. I want to hug Away your reservations, The hesitation that edges Across the arch of your back As you hunch into yourself slightly, And drives the way you play With your hair, Wrap it around your fingers, Pull loose strands And swish them from your hands,

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Eyes following each piece As it drifts to the ground While you speak. I want to hold you close And firm to steady The animated self You are hiding in this moment And keep it From spiraling away. When you read Your world suddenly has shape And rhythm: each stanzas structure A stack of lines and rhyme That makes you Whole and yet Each line break is a fissure That opens you just enough To let me peak inside. I wonder If I deserve To be Let in so quickly. You read In a precise cadence, The steady pulse of your voice Organizing your jumbled thoughts And emotions into a pattern Of beats that reads like a list Of your flaws and perfections The two indistinguishable As they roll off your tongue And into the air, A tightly spiraled swirl That encases me Like a subtly spicy aroma Bright and full and palpable Unfolding in layers Of escalating heat. Now you. You gesture To my computer. I tuck my hand Beneath my chin, Eyes lock on the screen.

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The careful forming Of each word Keeps my voice from wavering As I read The lines that force time backward Through a precise image, A feeling, then one long stretch Of hard-to-breathe blackness. When I read I can feel Your eyes move Across the screen, Wanting to take In the words Before I voice them, wanting To understand me As fiercely as I want To understand you. Our vulnerability written In your eyes and mine As they move across the page. A deep silence Fills the gap between us When the poem ends. I turn to look at you And sense our duel desire For control Being overthrown by a desire To be known, To be heard, to feel Connected through language And without it, Just thoughts conveyed Through stillness and steady breaths, Raised eyebrows, eyes, A smile, A moment without Words. When we move Toward the door I wish For more Time in this space Where we disappeared From our existence

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And lingered in the cluttered emptiness Of a moment uninterrupted. As we stride across the room I feel the empty unlit spaces Fill with the heat Of our thoughts, And fears, And the flaws That make us Perfectly imperfect.

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Mackenzie I sit in the grass, Arms draped Across my tucked knees, Sweat slipping down the backs Of my bare shoulders. In the dugout Your laugh rises Through the heat Of your smile, bright and wide When you turn your head And catch my eye. You move through the dugout. When I look up You stand above me, Crouch down, mid sentence, So your eyes are level With mine. I dont realize Your hand rests Softly on my leg Until you smile And say you shaved. I smile, laugh, lean in When you whisper, My head angled down Towards yours The words mix With the dirt and sweat Of my past and your present, Our lives converging, Merging in a flurry of shared scenes: Early weekend morning car rides That edge through darkness Into sun-lined six-game days: Summer sunscreen sweat That drips in eyes And licking lips that taste like salt And sand, too-quick naps on tented blankets Next to friends with dangling braids, The collective voice Of parents hover In our hazy half-dreams Lined with the ping of bats And long fly balls that loop

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Across a cloudless sky. The urgent depth Of your tone Reminds me of a phone call When the dark notes of your voice, Laden with muffled tears, Made me want to hold you The way my mother always held me When heated tears burned Down my cheeks In streaks of frustration. On the field Your cleats grind into the dirt As you await the pitch. When the ball smacks your glove It sets your body swiftly into motion Dirt rises up around you As your knees bend to absorb the ball, Arms fold in and out As they extend and release. At the plate The bat wraps around Your shoulder, cool metal Against the heat Of your bare skin As you step into the box, Stare down the pitcher, Connect to send the ball spiraling Across the diamond. When the game ends Your face relaxes, Brown eyes bright When you come back to me. You start talking As I stand to stretch, Your body falling in line Next to mine, Our shoulders pressed together As we walk. When we stop Near a group of your friends I wonder if youll edge away, Instead you shift slowly Around me as we talk

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The patchwork motion Of your orbit lined With raised eyebrows, Light touches, Hands whipping through the air As they fill the gaps Between your words That bounce and skip In bright quick snatches Bursting in a rapid Rise and fall That draws my shoulders Square with yours. Without thinking I turn my body to match your Pace and always face you, Realize we both stand Hands on hips, Heads cocked to the side. I try to trace the rhythm In your eyes, the tempo Deep and steady, Matches mine, pulses With untold stories I hope youll tell me. The summer slips away around us In seconds ticking past, too fast For us to think About this moment, hold it As we inch back Through the cluttered masses. Before you take The field again We pause, Breathe in the details of the day Before they fade. You sit down next to me On a patch of pavement. Your body shifts softly, slowly Into mine, so gently it Makes the whole world move.

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Blaine I. Thick air draws Sweat across her Bare shoulders As her muscles flex And relax in rapid rhythm, Fingers tensing And releasing On her stick as she weaves Through invisible defenders. Her labor written on her Scrunched brow, the arch Of her back, the brown sparks Of crackling heat In her eyes As she digs in, Digs deep, drives her Heels into the hard earth, Exhales the thrumming pulse Of burning muscles. Arms pump In time with her Labored breath Through the last stretch An unadulterated smile bursts Thick and light and blunt Across her Face, imbued With missed opportunities Her bodys breakdown A stoic sweet redemption. II. Your scar is dark, The color of bruises But harder, straighter, Raised above the white Soft flesh of your knee. I touch it When you tell me I can A simple honest seam Whose sinewed cinched-tight Thickness brings me closer

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To the core of you Than any conversation We have ever had. III. As you speak The layers of your eyes Unfurl like the center Of a dark flame, Wisps of red curl Back to reveal Your lush blue burning Core a heated mix Of virulent emotions, Barbed words enmeshed And restless. I want You to say everything You havent. I want you to curse, Loudly, with abandon So everyone can hear The wound in you, The guttural depth Of it, the open chasm Bleeding brown blood pain, The smell of rust And burning flesh. When I hug you I want to hold on Tighter, longer, Let the icy heat Of your eyes Filter through me, Burn me, Brand me So I remember What it feels like To be consumed By fire. IV. The door is closed. The familiar rush

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And click of the handle Precedes your subtle-lavish entrance. The surprise in your face Is quickly followed by a grin When you find me inside. You plops down in the chair Opposite me, already mid-sentence. I wonder where you came from, Where youre going, how You will smooth-talk Your way out of the obligations You instantly abandon In favor of this conversation. I ask about your knee. When you responds you are bright Burning eye contact And downward glances, Eyes tightly focused On your hands when you speak About your injury. You fiddle with a cup of markers, Fingers gently touching All the caps - lifting, rearranging, burying Your thoughts. This is going to make me Cry you gently laugh, Can we talk about something else? I dont respond, just watch You as you look away, Wisps of brown hair Falling across your brown eyes. I wait. Talk to my friends, I say, they can help. When you look back up Tears are snaking steady streaks Down your cheeks. I hand you a tissue. You smiles, sigh inwardly This is a roller coaster Of emotion. You let the tears hang, Suspended in their freefall Down your face for a silent moment Before you rub them away,

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Fingers smearing wet black mascara Beneath your eyes. I watch you Even as you look away Unwilling to let this moment pass Too quickly. I want To share this silence, Let it linger. I want To be lost in it And find myself In the purity Of your emotional wreckage Felt deeply, and wholly, And unapologetically. In a final silence Your eyes are careful Not to give away too much Despite your inability To be anything but honest. In these enigmatic moments I always concede To our conversations closure It ends because your tone denotes finality, And before I can marvel At the depth of this encounter You are morphing into the hallway, Bookbag slung across your shoulder And door swung open In the same wide sweeping gesture, The narrow sliver of your disappearance Quickly edging into the click Of a closed door.

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War I grip the wheel. You turn your head. The silence Is like a breath Exhaled upon a window. Instead of saying everything We havent, we watch the city Flash past in the blueblack Blur of lights that sink Into the Schuylkill In an icy skeletal echo Of boathouse row White ribs flayed Across the surface Of the water, long limbs Of light reaching Toward each bank. I wrote my will You say, casually With an uneven laugh. The possibility Of your death Rises between us In a quick dark flashing image Of your body, stained In blacks and violet reds. You ask me what I want. A violent punctuation marks My almost too quick answer: Your books. A pause, And your writing. As silence swells To fill the space Our words have hollowed I wonder If we will ever Have another moment As deep red, As infinite, As undone.

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If this will be the last In a series of goodbyes. Our friendship unravels As your dreams of the Middle East Expand around us. I have the desperate urge To search for something more Tangible than this space Between us, and find it in the craning Of your neck as you turn To sneak one last Glimpse of the city As it drops out behind us The curve of your face As it turns toward the window Is the only way I know you feel Apprehension, a sense of loss. I ease my foot off the petal So the tires spin a little slower To give you the only gift I am capable of giving One last unbroken moment When you can absorb the city skyline, Revisit the streets that are laced With our honest laughs At simple pleasures, Friendship without the threat Of time and space and silence. As the car takes us further From the city, your presence Shrinks into your impending absence. The wideness of without-you Reveals that our bond is failing Us even as it fastens us together. My fingers tense a little tighter And the feel of the steering wheel Beneath my hands reminds me That our lives are divided By a single word: war.

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Surrender Longneck beers, red oven heat, And crumpled napkins Line long conversations Around your dining room table. As you clear the plates Our laughter slowly curves Into the soft undertones of seriousness. When you speak Your words spread Through me As delicately Sharp as frost on An early morning Winter windowpane. Just before your world opens You glance down At the table Eyes hiding The night His calls became The anthem Of your fear; The tight screech Of your car As he pulled you from it And drove away Leaving you rooted To the asphalt Choppy breaths And pounding heart Binding you to the pavement Until your feet broke Into a run. When you look up I feel The cold surge Of your wounded eyes And the metallic burn Of half formed tears That make my jaw tingle.

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When you look up, All I can see Is heat, and fire, And destruction Spinning in slow motion.

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Echoes My eyes were filled With shadows that echoed All the things we werent Saying. We pretended We could breathe The same air That hung between us In the heat Of winter rain. Her arms draped Across the wheel, A curl of energy Deep and smoky Slid across the dash. A spark of words Would flash across Silent sullen moments And fizzle into thin-embered Notes that hung like burning Ash upon the air. I waited For something To happen. The silence Was like a second-hand caress.

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Hollow Notes In the studio I sat facing her, Her eyes tightly focused On her hands. She replaced The blade in her cutting tool, Rearranged her workspace, Plugged her computer in. She did not look at me. As her (aura) body curved (stiffened) against me I wondered if she had forgotten The late night cold Steel touch of my car, The dogged groan of the engine As it turned over in the darkness, The rain gloss moonlit shimmer Of late night study sessions expiration. Her downcast eyes The tacit implication that she had erased The long stretch of highway Between the airport And our school, and smiles bursting With the minute details Of daily life discussed Over late night television Show commercials. The rumblings of a radio Next door made our silence More pronounced, our lack of words Reverberating in the space Between us, pushing us further Apart. The minutes ticked away In a delicate decrescendo And I knew the echoes Of my shuffled footsteps Were the final notes In the too short simple song of us.

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The sky is an offering One huge bright yellow flower Of burning. The permeating Of an ancient bloodletting Into the red-orange-pink Tangles of today, Like the insides of a splayed fish Fresh from the sea. Sometimes the sky Is a wide deep mouth That goes up and out In an endless yawn. Sometimes I want It to burn me With a torch of flame Like lightning, a deafening Sizzle of seared skin That stops the world From moving forward, A nanosecond of nothing As everything else drops away.

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ACCEPTANCE

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Inspiration is the tempo Of an urgent undulating intonated voice Laden with breaths and closed eyes And furrowed eyebrows, staccato pauses, Back to back - Wave ripples too quick To write, a voice that draws A silky smile smooth Across my face. A voice Raspy velvet and sweet Dark chocolate notes, Maroon like blood And thick like the cry of a mother In labor, the swell, the rise, The fall of her Belly and lungs And breasts and limbs and heart.

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Natasha The car revs As you turn up the heat And I turn away. I shift in my seat, Shiver as I talk, The words leaving my body Hollow. I wipe my eyes, Fingertips slippery With tears that I smear Across my face, And hands, and lips: The wetness wide and startling Like an off color ocean. I fidget in the silent moments That lace the space Between us Just after you say If youre waiting for someone Who understands you, Youll always be waiting. The windshield fills With raindrops that cling To the glass, linger To capture dots of white Streetlight in icy pre-freefall suspension. I have to go The only words That still exist In my mind and mouth Simultaneously. The image Of an empty house Almost holds me In my seat, But the raindrop streaked Silence presses My fingers to the seatbelt buckle, Unlocks the door, Swings my body Into the darkened Sunday evening hours And away from your car Before you can

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Kill the engine. When I turn Youre beside me. I shiver through your hug, One arm tugging you tighter, My raspy breath echoes Around you through the misty rain. When I edge away You pull me in again. I press my head Into your shoulder and wish For my mother. In the rush of heat And silent seconds That fill my car When you walk away And wait by the stairs I wonder why You helped me.

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Charter In the single silent moment Before we chant Charter And break the chain Of hands that link us, I breathe in The dried leaf crackle Of fall that reminds me Of my own hockey days The dirt colored rust That lines my helmet, The hot curls of smoky breath That rise through the shine Of Wednesday night home Game lights, the cushioned Footfalls of my competitor As she approaches the stroke mark, The weightless seconds In the cage on corners, My teammates muscles tensing In unison before we burst Across the line. Before we edge back Into our separate lives I inch a little closer, Put my hand on someones shoulder And shiver through the last light Of the day. In those seconds When we are linked I wonder If you will remember Threading pink laces through cleats And tugging socks over shin guards With the prickle of turf Beneath your skin, The simple bursts Of laughter that rise Out across the field On crisp afternoons While you stretch Next to friends And tell them the details Of your day, Long sprints That bring us back together

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In a flash of cold faces Flush with crimson Patches and a chorus Of quickened breaths That slow and deepen Like the days last arc Of sunlight as it edges Up the clock tower, Recedes back into the dark folds Of a November sky. As I turn to leave, Each step carrying me Swiftly back To the obligations I let go of In the silent reflection Before we began, I hope you wont forget The chilled heat of sweat That rises off bare shoulders When we huddle Before a game, The world fading Behind our bodies Pressed together tightly, Heads bowed slightly Over our web Of interwoven arms and hands, Or the simple deep crisp lush dark feeling Of something bigger, Something greater, Than just you.

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Her Wings A dragonfly alights On the rearview mirror When my car idles At a stoplight. Her wings Tucked, each body fiber twitches Short, controlled, Almost imperceptible. Legs grip the plastic, Balance the slender body In a delicate static motion Tapping, feeling, sensing The movement of the car Before it moves. She is gone.

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Pulses A bee touches down On my car window, Her body pulsates Flashes of yellow Torso flush, Glowing in heartbeat Rhythm - light ripples Through her body In an almost undulation As I press my face to the glass. My large eyes Peer into many Small ones, entranced By this uninterrupted moment Where we exist In an expanse Of breath and sight And touch, and then She flies away.

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A robin Perches on a sapling That bends beneath her full belly. She scans, Neck twisting In half circles As her wings open And she skims The grass line In a flutter Of red and black.

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FOUND POEMS

The Texture of Love The texture of your love Like mud, deep and viscous Against the lush chords And aching tremolos Of a swarm of butterflies In a halo of movement and light. But its the color I crave Floodings of you Running down the edges Of the sky On to the brown earth, On to the grey stone, On to me. Your love like blazing streaks Of bloodshot sky With pink clawmarks Pulled through it And tongues of flame That restore my sight. When you bleed The smells change color There is iron in your soul. On those days You smell like a gun. Forgive me. Explore me. Rescue me. Consume me When you come, Then let me penetrate You with a flush of desire, Make you cry out With pleasure Close to pain Until we are A dizzy chasm Of satisfying numbness Where your promises swell Like breathing flesh And your body, passion-damp, Is the color and substance of battle. An ordinary miracle Your body changing

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Under my hands While I ride you Like a nightmare. You smell of the sea. I crouch down Through the cold weight Of lost hours To taste the salt, To run my fingers Around the rim As you open And shut. I will hold on To this pulse Against other rhythms The rush and press Of life begins And ends here Where I take pleasure In knowing I am the only one Breathing you in. I have no dreams To possess you But I want You to possess me. Instead of formalities Your hand prints Are all over my body: My copyright, Your property. Beneath your control Is a crackling power That asks me to come To you without a past. I fear the heroine in you, The Gothic novels mistress Of the house capable Of setting fire To it and fleeing In the night With one bag. I fear you Have a door I cannot see

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And that any minute The door will open And youll be gone Leaving me Love-lined, lead-lined, A psychedelic splash-painting Of virulent emotions, Naked, abused, exposed, Alone on the edge Of the world, An apostle of ordinariness.

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I want your moving breathing flesh Not your divided self that sinks Into the faded pattern Regime of clocks and calendars With animal inevitability. Your long list of attributes Is written on my body Above my longer list Of disabilities. You gave Me bales of straw. I thought They were promises Carved in precious stones. I felt blank and sick. I have sobered up. I pour myself a drink Of satisfying numbness And think about jumping Off the side of the world Into a fiery furnace To be burned up by you. My chest is full Of stones and sulphurous streams. I want to punch you For the pleasure of it, Tangle the clear lines That bind us. I want To say something cruel To justify myself, To force you To your knees. It might be a void Or it might be a release To wrap my body In the blazing streaks Of bloodshot sky The color of bruises. I am jumping out of this plane We both shared With the tone and texture Of your skin, the stolen glances, The hot thrill of guilt, My tender faithfulness,

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And the buds of your promises That did not swell: I will burn them One by one With a dizzy misery That engulfs my iron gun soul In tongues of flame That restore my sight. This lush dark void Is crackling with power.

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I walk out of the house into the rain, Tilt my head back and open my mouth My body divides into a hotness and a coldness, The two halves grinding one upon the other. The sudden wetness a wild hammering Siren scream like the fall of slaughtered birds. I want to lie among the bodies. Penance For some obscure sin. I am alone On the edge of the world, falling Like parts of a dream fashioned out of warped glass. Silence. Only the wind blowing softly. Tore from the breath of my mouth A murmur, whisper, shout, scream, yell. But what would I whisper, what should I yell? What could I say that doesnt sound Like breath exhaled upon a window, Or the ticking gasp of cold lost hours. I am going away from the self I have been: One long sickening gasp of motion, Then one precise moment Of red coals and black ash in a terrible liquefaction That bubbles and froths and boils Over yellow foam with a hiss Like skeletons melting. I want To burn everything. Fire is bright. Fire is clean. Quick. Sure. A shrieking Blaze, a continuous pulse of writhing Flame, a single solid cloud Of black-gray smoke that refuels My fast-draining belief In my own ability to survive And cause the whole immediate world to vibrate.

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How often I have laid beneath rain On a strange roof, liquid melancholy Breaking like a mournful lullaby Upon the night. The sky is an offering, I want the light to penetrate me: A thin nimbus of fire breaking open The dull chords of my soul as words Go rushing out, made into a fleshy heartbeat that deepens and quickens. I thought of her, superficially serene But beneath her control a crackling power That makes me nervous, a steady flame That might be fed by a volatile current, An odd little laugh that goes up and up. Suddenly she was so strange I couldnt believe I knew her at all. Sometimes I cannot bear That she is my cross and she is my salvation, Smelling of lightning, rushing her words out, Her eyes orange flame but peaceful like machinery After you have watched it and listened to it For a long time. I am drowning in inevitability. She is the first person I can remember Who looked straight at me as if I counted: Delicately like a black butterfly On one huge bright yellow flower of burning.

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When the Wind Stops I wondered if it was safe to feel relieved as I watched the tide recede into the depths of the horizon. For a little while we could breathe the same air, deeply, even if we were standing on different sides of the line. There was surrender in her eyes that brought me closer. This is the road, and this is where it ends she said. I wondered why She stopped, her voice like a slow curtain unraveled. She held out her palm, her fingers like crashing waves just empty pockets. She was locked and sealed. She was leaving. The winter sun hung silent and still. I pressed Are you tired from all the Spinning? Are you dizzy yet? She sat across from me, breathing silently. She lifted her arms high

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into the white winter sky, love is the end of the road. Impulses spread across her eyes in chords that echoed all the things we werent saying. I found myself caught in the middle of a complicated color. Now what happens?

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We Pretended I wondered If it was safe To be caught In the middle Of a complicated color Like the slow unraveling Of empty pocket surrender. I smiled When the things we werent Saying stopped the wind From howling. The curl of energy between us hung silently like crashing waves before they spread the most perfect imperfection.

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My Little Golden Arabia The unknown Has always drawn me Curtained doorways Leading to shisha dens And tiny tea shops, The stillness of predawn Morning shattered By the scuffle Of sandaled feet. This desert Is a dusty whirlwind Of animals, refuse, Un-chaperoned children, Tired old men, The unemployed: Careworn, unspoken, Eyes scrunched In thoughtless concentration. The rugged grandeur Of differences Is like an oil lantern Crudely affixed To a cart. I often wake To the braying of a donkey, Or the hiss and spat Of a lone stray cat At it wanders winding Alleys laced With cardammon and curry powder. I cling to history Books, memoirs, Poems romanticizing This land Of old buildings And pollution, This halfway house Between tradition And modernity. Aden is falling Prey to cheap plastic Mass market Consumer goods And facebook.

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Cell phones And unemployment. Corrupt businessmen And burkas Ride escalators To the Pizza Hut In the mall, Return to dust ridden divans In derelict buildings With no electricity Or running water. Shopkeepers and street vendors Uncover sacks of spices And flanks of mutton, Women cloistered In their private enclaves, Children trotting Three to a donkeyThis informal Aden Is perpetually on the cusp Of civil war. My hours, afternoons, days Of dreaming Reduced to stifling social customs. My unspoken yearning To find myself In an uneven pace, Roast lamb, incense, Bolts of gilt fabrics, The ancient, rugged romance Of the Middle East Is caught only in glimpses Through windows, Or in the outlaying countryside Where old women huddle By a well, fill buckets, Talk, share the sameness Of their lives, Carry huge bundles Of grains and rice On top of their heads To market. The austere beauty Of the desert, Splayed and hung

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Like mutton In a cluttered street, Is my vivid reality.

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