Media Naranja (Prose Poem)

Media Naranja

In the beginning we were all just whole—we were sweet oranges, rolling around, content. But all it took was one divine decision—a split—and now we search every wrinkle of the earth for our Media Naranja. But if you were anything but an orange, that’d be okay too. If you were a tree, shocked to the core by a lightning strike, left smoldering and broken—or if you were one half of the grand canyon, yawning and yearning to be reunited. Or even if you were half of a grapefruit—I would just want to be a grapefruit too.

A Toast

A Toast

For all the times I baked a pie for you

Knowing you’d tilt your smile my direction—

For all the times I asked and you said soon,

And by avoiding you thought that you had won.

For all the times I slept against your breath

And hoped you’d stay to keep my feet warm.

For all the times I thought I’d fix that mess

Of spines and blinders without getting torn.

But even with the blinks and all the smiles

That never quite rang true, I know I tried—

But even with your heartless, heatless guile

It wasn’t ‘til you left I learned to cry.

            We both had orbits never quite our own—

            We caused the brick walls to crumble and drown. 

A Beautiful Poem

I found this lovely piece and I thought I'd share. 

Ginger

The ceiling above my bed

Was cracked the night we met

By the storm that turned this

House onto an x axis.

I couldn’t stop staring,

Freckle-counting and still caring

For the constellation-faced

Boy with impeccable taste.

I piled my books up high from the floor,

Fortress walls, like I’d always done before.

Do you remember laying like stars

On the concrete, comparing our scars?

I remember singing Billie Holiday

Classics, and dreaming one day

We’d fall asleep on each other

The way you always said we would.

Towards the Sun

I still recall being

A paper doll

In his unsteady hands.

I watched with horror as my sweet wax wings

Melted in the sharp, white sun

Before I could even fly.

And that the feathers

Slowly walked down from the sky

To wait for me.

But as I took the last few steps

My feet went missing

And I bumped my way down

Into the yawping mouth below.

In the Bread Aisle

I have a short list of words—

Words I would whisper out into

The deepdeepdeep night

With the bigbigbig trees—

The trees that I think are all

About sex.

An arrangement of letters

Wrapped into one of those billions

Of words

That I haven’t ever said to you before.

I would touch your ear again,

Feeling the

Peach fuzz that

Covers it completely. Feeling your

Heart

Beat

Through the thin fabric of your pajamas

Across your broad ribcage.

I can feel each coil of muscle

Where it attaches

To each piece of bone.

But who watched you move silently,

Violently,

Achingly aware of your proximities.

Stiffly grasping, like a broken-backed bird.

All the while silently sobbing—

But refusing to wake

The sleeping world?

Me.

So I’ll stare at the intrusive glow of

My phone screen,

The blue reaching back into my

Orbital Fenestra,

Where it can’t hurt anyone.

I will turn it off

And go to sleep. 

City Sounds

I wake and climb up on the roof above

To look out over all the Portland sky.

I close my eyes and let the wind become

Six miles per hour of new words to write.

The sounds of horns and bike wheels all rise up—

Distracting from the words I cannot think.

I wish just once

To close my eyes

And hear a mellow loon call.

But I will settle for the sound of trains.

The Tallest Man on Earth

The nurse staff asked

“What happened to him?”

I answered, silently,

Is it anyone’s fault when an evergreen falls?

Careful sheets and lilac flowers and orange rinds too,

Cover you.

What did I do to

The man in the moon?

Nothing-I whisper-nothing.

And all I can think of is

Lying facedown on the bed

With one eye open

Next to the lilac flowers

Listening to you tell the fable

Of you, the tallest man on earth.

You left me there,

Waiting, naked.

Next time, I’ll introduce myself—

“Hello, it’s so nice to meet you, my name is Scapegoat”

Unnamed

I saw a woman on a bench today—

            I memorized her.

            Every freckle I could see

            And every sigh that left her lips.

            I took them for my own.

I saw a nymph on a bench today—

            And I knew she knew

            Where Amelia Earhart

            Had gone.

            If anyone could know, she could know.

I saw a goddess on a bench today—

            And the world tipped to one side

            And left me groundless.

            Even time paused

            To wink at her

            Before continuing his work.

I saw a girl on a bench today—

            She left after saying “hello”

            And I didn’t want to follow. 

Clam

In the palm of his hand,

For his convenience,

Lay a clam.

Fissures and fault lines

Made up the map of her shell.

A smile was barely visible

As he crushed the shell inside his fist

Revealing the naked pink

Innards. He could almost see

Her shivering.

With a smirk

He tossed the mess to the ground. 

The Salt

The salt-sea

Breeze and the

Sea-salt spice

Make up most of the summer.

I watched a little red buoy hoist himself up up and up

Into the waves.

Tumble, tumble, head over toes,

Only to start the climb again.

His little journey

Is never-ever-ending.

I think I hear him calling

Over the rumble of the ride.

Nothing smells quite like

The sea-salted breeze

Or the faint, far off

Linger of a

Long-dead crab.

And how can I do anything

But lay like a stone,

While my skin starts to

Darken and my lips

Start to sting,

Until I can feel them crackling under my tongue.

Until I dissolve into the sea-salt waves.

Until I am the sea salt too.

Clouds

I had to write and revise ten poems for a class last semester, so I'll be posting them in the order I submitted them for class over the next couple of weeks. I posted this one before, but it was before revision. This is the new version. Enjoy!

Clouds

Sometimes all I can see

Are rabbits in the clouds,

Or mermaids.

Or even mammoth creatures.

But usually, just clouds.

Sometimes the sky

Turns purple. And we all have

To wait awhile

Before climbing trees.

Even oftener still,

The sky lets loose

A bright and lusty barrage

Of water,

That everyone ignores.

I will always marvel at you,

Even when the rest of the world forgets.

Birds

I was only eight

Years old

When I watched the birds fall from the sky.

I still concerned myself with

Dolls & passing notes.

But now I was scared to let

My daddy

Go to work.

No eight year old

Knows what

Patriotism

Means. But we did.

The attack of 1941

Never felt like

Ours.

Neither did the gunshots

That took down leaders.

But this day will always

Feel like

Ours.

I still remember waking up to a TV screen

And a silent house.

To a mother & father

With fear in their eyes

But normalcy in their actions.

Years later I read about

Pink mist

Filling the air

And it didn’t feel

Far removed. I understood

What he was talking about.  

The leaping. I

Remembered.

I still remember being eight years old

And watching

The birds fall from the sky. 

(Link to old blog post about 9/11 here)

Above

I don’t know if you have ever looked at the sky—

Sometimes, when I do

All I can see are rabbits in the clouds,

Or mermaids.

Or even mammoth creatures.

But usually, just clouds.

Every once in a while the sky

Turns purple. And we all have

To wait awhile

Before climbing trees.

Even oftener still,

The sky lets loose

A magnificent barrage

Of water.

And we should all stand in amazement.

But,

We don’t.

All of this,

To say that I will always love you. 

Rewrite

We are both aware of how

The story ends—

The prince leaves the fox,

And that’s all there is.

We’ve read it,

And loved it,

And held it in esteem—

Despite knowing the fact

That all things come to an end.

Through all of the late nights,

Both in transit and here,

We kept trying to define

What drew us so near.

Dancing to January,

And prancing through graveyards,

Lifting our voices

And drinking Hopelandic.

You asked how to tame me

And I didn’t answer—

But you made it happen,

Which both scared me and thrilled me.

There’s so much that’s happened

And so much held suspended,

I need all your fear as I

Navigate this ending.

I want this, I want you,

But not the way it has been.

We need something more

To remain more than friends.

I’ve loved you,

I’ve loved you,

And I’ve loved you

Some more.

But where did that get us?

To this impasse on the floor.

Wake yourself up

And be ready to fight me.

We’re not coming back to this

Place where we’re swaying.

We’ve both been good at

Sweating the small stuff,

But let’s not forget

What got us here in the first place.

You saw a wild fox,

And you wanted to tame her.

She resisted at first,

But then the changes were subtle.

You used to shout from your

Windows to the wind.

At the thought that this

Fox could be falling for you.

The fox loves the prince,

And the story unfolds,

But let’s look for a minute at the

Less often told.

The prince leaves the fox

After finally taming.

The fox is quite brave,

But can’t keep from wailing.

I have a question,

For my little prince.

Are we telling a story?

Or writing our own?

Do we let someone else

Write the end of this tale?

We must decide now

Whether to stay or to bail. 

I Just Can't-Haiku Edition

The Real Reason I’m Late for Work

Late for work-make toast.

But the toaster is not on—

I’m late anyway

Serving Sizes Actually Mean Something?

I’m cooking for one—

So why do I have so much

Leftover pasta?

Losing my Social Security Card Part I

You mean I have to

Keep all of my documents

In some sort of safe place?

Losing my Social Security Card Part II

If I lose my card

I can’t just ask mom and dad

To get a new one?

When Mom isn’t Cleaning Up After You

No matter how clean

We keep this place, it always

Seems to get dirty

If I Want a Balanced Meal

I think I’m getting

The hang of this cooking thing—

But I still burn rice.

When You’re Sick with da Ebola

Every last sniffle

Means that I’m dying—so who

Is making me soup?

I Just Can't

Everything, is going to pieces.

That’s right,

I said it—

I can’t be an adult,

To whomever that pleases.

I’m up all night worried

And I’m sick all day trying.

And where’s the money coming from for

All the clothes that I’m buying?

School’s hard

And life’s hard

And right now I’m a mess.

And could someone please tell me,

“Do I look fat in this dress?”

Grocery bills kill me

And my feet hurt all day.

I already have three jobs,

With two more on the way.

I want to eat healthy but

I’m not rolling in money,

And let’s not forget,

I have to feed my bunny.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

They all ask smugly.

“Why yes”, I reply,

“And he’s not even ugly!”

“So marriage, maybe?”

To which I have no answer,

So I smile ‘til they ask,

“And babies, soon after?”

I know that the world’s full of

Hunger, and riots.

But I’m just stuck here trying

To stick to this diet.

The Wi-Fi is a joke

In this dark, dusty apartment.

But even worse, let’s not

Talk about that stain in the carpet.

I walk to work,

And I walk to school too.

So shouldn’t I not have

To exercise too?

I almost miss the days

When my mom was the boss.

That woman knows everything,

And I’m at a loss.

Google gets me through things

And mom’s knowledge does too.

But their advice contradicts!

How should I know what to do?

I can bake any cake

But I can’t seem to cook rice.

I screw up so much

I could even ruin ice.

But speaking of ice,

I had ice cream for dinner.

It hurt my poor tummy,

But did I learn my lesson?

No! Of course not.

I had ice cream again.

My whole night will be

Spent curled up pain.

Did I mention the breakdowns?

Lots of screaming and crying.

And cussing, and punching.

You’d think I was dying!

But they can’t happen whenever,

Or at the drop of a hat.

I schedule them now,

Cause no one wants to see that.

Some friends are getting married

And others are single.

But that won’t stop any of them from

Trying to make you mingle.

You’ll protest and point out

That you’re happily taken.

But they want you at all parties

And events in the making.

Being an adult is

As hard as it seems.

But you can’t just complain,

Aren’t you living the dream?

I miss childhood days

When napping was encouraged.

Napping, oh napping,

Why did I think you were worthless?

Heating, and electric,

Water bills and more.

Groceries and rent,

And hidden fees galore.

Schoolwork and work-work,

And finding time to be sane.

When it all blows up on me,

There’s no one else to blame.

At the end of the day

After not a single win,

I’ll just call my mom,

And ask to move back in.

To the Moon

will I ever be ready?

when it comes down to the day

the hour

the minute

the second

will I be ready?

I’ve always tried to tell myself, yes.

yes I will be ready

yes I am ready

yes of course without a doubt

there’s no hesitation

no fear

no moment of precipicity and balancing action.

I’ve been ready from the start.

but, am I ready,

little one?

am I ready to be expanded

and consumed

and frightened by the unknown sounds and creaks that will keep me awake through the night through the day through your cries and your coos through the echoes of a not-so-lonely life?

if only. If only.

I could wake up and hold the world

in my arms and

comfort the world when it cries

and kiss the world to assuage fears

and love the world so it knows me best.

you. You are the world and the moon and the stars

and the rocking of the earth as it tilts into me.

you will always be my world,

even now,

before we’ve met,

and before we have even gotten the chance to meet.

“Then he lay down close by and whispered with a smile, ‘I love you right up to the moon—and back’”.

Old Friend

It’s you and me again—

Sitting like friends on this

Old hardwood floor.

The windows of this

House are covered in dust

And the memories I've

Shared with you.

It’s you and me again—

Remember when you helped me

Get through the time

With the boy

And the bruises

And the late nights

And the moon?

It’s you and me again—

O dear old friend.

We've made it this far—

Sometimes I’m worried

I can’t wake up without you.

It’s you and me again—

If we sift through photographs

And old timey stills

You’re always there,

Lurking in the shadows

Just a hint of

A secret

In the corner of my mouth.

It’s you and me again—

I've held you near and dear,

And I've trusted you to care.

But lately,

I've felt your tug

On the ends of my hair

Keeping me from getting close.

It’s you and me again—

I can’t tell if you’re sad,

Or hurt,

Or angry.

But I’m just ready.

Or at least, I hope so.

It’s you and me again—

You stand between all that I stand to gain,

And for that,

I must bid farewell.

I won’t forget when we stared at the moon

And you kept me safe from them.

It’s you and me again,

The way it has almost always been.

I remember a time,

When you weren't around—

It’s hard to say goodbye to an old friend. 

The View from Here

I was raised up

From the dust of a hazy summer flame

And a false prince

And a childhood romance

And a dark suitor

With green eyes and a crooked smile.

Fingerprints have made their way

Down my heart

And my hands—

My hands that were only

There to guide out of

Fear

And to reach out in love

And then to cry out

With words

I had never said before.

High above,

Above it all,

By the edges of the sea

Under a moon kiss

You followed the lead of those before.

I’m a statue

And I’m a crime.

I raise my

My eyes—

One eye,

Both eyes

To look forth from my pedestal above.

I've been here before.

I know I've been here before.

But you've seen the scars,

You've seen the bent back

And the twisted hands,

And you want me there.

More of me.

Either your standards are low,

Or I’m better than I thought.