Tag: Poem

  • Suburban Dream

    Suburbia is a nap. Not an early evening nap that fades to night and eases into the next morning, but one of those thirty minute cat naps after which the sleeper jolts awake in a state of confusion and spends the remainder of the slow, technicolor day disoriented like ordering a plate of chicken fingers…

  • Window Thoughts

      Mom stopped smiling last week. I don’t ask why, the tea kettle blows steam. Music from the top of a glass bottle of Coca Cola. Sometimes, I gotta lick my chapped lips before playing the tune. My tongue scrapes the dry spot I bite off with teeth, it bleeds. Once, she asks how school’s…

  • In Memory Of

      It’s that moment of teetering before ground meets head, shards fly, an internal air raid, sirens. Silent seconds before tornado. No looking back to what was hidden in dirt, or painted grass raking jagged nails through hair, eyes closed through breezes, they open. Wide fields of corn and cows eating corn. Was it soybeans?…

  • Afternoon on a Lake

    We wrote poems in cigarette smoke, or sex as it ran down the side of a boat intertwined in water from a dammed-up lake, forced to exist.   Ash singed the pages, humid moonlight that burned our hands until we could not touch. drops hit the glass surface, coerced water rippled.   Debris floated in…

  • Once, I Was Asked Why I Stayed (#1)

    The necklace around my neck hands or curse words slipping   across a Pine-Sol floor I should’ve cleaned better                                     like dishes   slamming against a wall the muzzle chilling my temple an empty freezer expired chipped paint over a patched hole  

  • A Sunday Drive Through Kansas

      The road was a flat sheet, a Nascar announcer’s voice between waves of static. Corn, shriveled from unseasonable drought, I waved at the oil wells we passed and counted them through the window   crunched with brown grass as I laid in a ditch, among fields of broken glass and found the station wagon,…