It Isn’t and Doesn’t Sing to Itself: NaPoWriMo 2015, Day 30 (!)

No longer on the table,
no longer exterior to you —
it’s no longer here.

Bad decisions, but
not the least nor
the best of its kind

to get around the city,
nor a convenient means
to anyone’s best friend

nor to you. It isn’t
and doesn’t sing to itself.
It isn’t made of glass.


2.5 Stars — Not the Best, Not the Worst: NaPoWriMo 2015, Day 29

I was initially excited to come to this
office chair, because my friend was all like,
“OMG, it’s sooooo comfortable, and you can
adjust it up and down.” But OK, first of all,
it was a mauve-and-black “Saved by the Bell”
kind of print. Just, gross. Also, I tried to get
someone to help me with the up-and-down
feature, but there didn’t seem to be
anyone working there. So I had to find it
myself, kind of under the seat, and then
it’s not like it was some kind of thrill ride.
Whatever. That was fine. It was all fine —
it swiveled and rolled like you’d expect —
it’s just that, for the time it took me
to get there, I was hoping for
something more like Six Flags
or like a lounge chair by the pool.
This was not that. So I stayed
a few hours, and then I left.


My Mother, Approaching the Bridge: NaPoWriMo 2015, Day 28

Over the Mad River, maybe,
or the Miami, whichever
was between our house
and my volunteer job
at a nature center.

A certain bend of
green-brown water,
a certain terror

she couldn’t explain
and I couldn’t understand.
A pause, several deep breaths.
It’s possible, too, that she
talked herself through it:
Come on, Rosemary.

It’s possible, but I can’t ask her
about this or any other moment,
about this or anything else.
There are no more bridges
for us to cross



Social Dancing: NaPoWriMo 2015, Day 27

you remember
waltzing in gym,

square dancing
to a record,

the basic,
plain box step,

and back,
left and right?

your palms
sweaty like mine?

you look
at your possibilities,

and waiting
to be chosen?

you wait
to be chosen?)

it happened,
did your stomach

as you
and your partner

your spot
on the floor?

you took
your first steps,

you wonder
if this was

start of
something entirely new?


White 10 in a Red Swimsuit, White Swimsuit Perfect 10: NaPoWriMo 2015, Day 23

White 10 in a red swimsuit, lines everywhere of coke
you look like a Coke can sun rays bouncing off your
curves all around if I hated you then, I hate you more
now in your white swimsuit perfect 10, Bo Derek, the sun
rises and sets on you these are not elephant days
these are not days to write home about
these are not days when I feel flesh-colored
and fabulous and sit by a pool eating Twizzlers
and drinking Tab and not caring about cancer
or anything else that I can’t see and don’t have
to care about yet, not while we all still live in this
apartment complex Shady Arms, where you are
the godforsaken queen someday you’ll get wrinkles,
someday you’ll get moles, someday I’ll look down
at you in your box and still be jealous of you
because just like any other day you will
still be the finest one of all.


Paloma in the City: NaPoWriMo 2015, Day 22

She pieces the morning together,
this pigeon; I hear her beak
clack against the sidewalk
outside the city college
each time she tries to burst
a brittle plastic wrapper that holds
a few small crumbs of something.
I double back and offer her
a bit of crust from the leftover pizza
that I’ve brought for lunch.
And I wonder a few things:
If anyone saw, if I’m now part of
the Urban Pigeon Feeding Problem,
if I’m bound to get a ticket,
and also if it was best
to fill her stomach with dough.
But I gave her something—
what I had—and she seems
glad to take it, shaking free
one bite at a time as people
weave around her work.
The next day, I’ll recall
a drink I once had in Mexico:
tequila and grapefruit soda.