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. 

Names

Divine—

You take my heart and pluck

Me forward to my knees

Where I've fallen so many times

Before.

Peace bringer—

Within my own walls

Of both heart and mind

And in the world as well you

Calm the seas.

Friend—

Like a listening ear

Ready to know my secrets,

You lift me by my arms

In your own.

Prince—

Even the stars

And the sun and the moon

And the very air we breathe

Worship you.

Brother—

It has been far too long

Since I have said your name.

Remind me though, that

You’re still

There.

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.

Saturday Morning Showers

I

Saturday morning showers

Are my favorite.

With not a care in

The world

At only nine years old

I already used

Showers to

Contemplate.

II

Plinking and dropping

All over my

Hair and my

Face and my

Eyes and my

Teeth.

Water, water, everywhere.

I’m much too happy

To ever care

If the hot water runs into my face

Or if the water turns cold

For even one split second.

Because I secretly like

The cool, clear streams for just that one moment

Pouring down and down and down

Enough to make me shiver

But not enough for me

To cry.

But only in a Saturday morning

Shower.

III

I always complain

About showering at night.

Mornings are better.

IV

The air is

Always too cold

After a long

Saturday shower.

There are goosebumps everywhere

When I step out.

I quickly run,

Light-footed

With towels galore

Wrapped tightly so

As not to sneak a peek.

And land myself in a still and shivering pile right on the carpet in the living room in the sunspot of sunlight as it slips through the pulled back curtains and the dingy glass window so that I can warm myself like a cat because even cats need baths every once in a while when they get themselves all slippery and slick with the mud of a brand-new day.

V

I have to move

From my sunspot

So that mama

Can vacuum.

She puts on some old

Synthesized music

And begins to dance,

Swaying her hips back and forth

To the time.

Her hips no longer slim

Like a youth

But widened.

A badge of honor

For birthing four

Screaming and

Laughing

Babies

Into a world

Of Saturday morning showers

And lilac trees

And dead-end streets

With blackberries to pick and

Thorns to scratch.

She always cleans on Saturdays.

Lit Up

My skin was filled with

All of the star monsters who

Taught me how to glow

Snip Snip Snip

You set to work, like a painter at an easel, or a cellist with his instrument—and I the work of art.

Hours pass, me posing, both of us reading

The world slipping by in an endless tunnel of

Your walls and my heart.

This large and looming circle of love with your name written on it,

And the minuscule square you expect me to work with.

A snip snip snip here,

And a snip snip snip there.

I cut down my circle of love to fit inside the square.

The changes are gradual, but the

Possibilities are endless.

I close my eyes in an effort to stem

The terrifying thought that I am less than a person

To you.

Each limb has been redrawn on drafting sheets, with pattern pieces

Cut to fit my oddly shaped person.

And on the assembly line I go—

You charge it up,

Cutting me out as I move through the stages of production.

Snip snip snip here.

Snip snip snip there.

One night I fall asleep with your words

Painted on the inside of my eyes

And I awake with the sun,

Unblinking—

Because my eyes no longer blink.

They’re just open.

Painted bright and painted happy

On the flat face of a paper doll

Arms not meant to move

And heart not meant to beat

And blood not meant to flow

And eyes not meant to cry

And a smile as permanent as

A mountain.

I can feel the flutter of the paper birds as their wings move me up

And up and up and up.

Towards the sun where my new wings will melt

And the ocean will catch my gently

Dropping paper

Body.

Snip snip snip

Snip snip snip.

I was too human for you.