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Three things that changed me: 

1. My Dad suffered 

2. My Dad died 

3. I learned I am good 

Three things I'm grateful for: 

1. A handwritten card

2. Woodland flowers 

3. Fulfilling work  

Two things I yearn for: 

1. Real love 

2. Restoration 

Thumbs on a nickel blitz

 

In the restaurant the window sun glows strong 

Sweat forms in the widow's armpits 

She hopes he will see 

Come evening the dog is too hot 

She pants on a red fleece throw 

She is practicing self-restraint 

It is a work in progress 

I could not be at a party right now

Perhaps I've shared too much 

I'm trying not to overthink it 

My heart is beating so fast 

My father calls me in the dark

 

Hey, I'm in trouble 

He doesn't know where he is 

It might be some kind of bunker 

He doesn't know who else is there, but he can hear them 

They might be cops 

They are plotting to harm him 

They are plotting to harm me and my sister

He needs to get out of there 

No, he's sure of it

Yes, he can see the TV on the wall 

Yes, he can see the curtain to the right of his bedside 

Yes, he can see the whiteboard with his name on it 

Yes, he can see the date in the upper righthand corner 

It is [April.] It is [June.] It is [August.] It is [October.] It is [December.] It is [Christmas Day.] It is [February.] It is [March.] It is [April again.] It is [May.] It is [June, again.] It is [July.] 

The large yellow paper magnetized to the board says, fall risk

Dad, do you think I would lie to you? 

That's right. I would never lie to you.

So you can trust me when I tell you that you're in the hospital 

Yes, really. You're there because you [have sepsis.] You're there because [you went septic again.] You're there because you [were so weakened by the sepsis that you fell and broke your pelvis.] You're there because you [were so weakened by the stroke that was caused by the sepsis that you struggle to swallow, and you've developed aspiration pneumonia after eating dinner one evening.] You're there because you [developed aspiration pneumonia again. It's because you had a stroke. Yes, really. It occurred because you had sepsis.] You're there because you [have aspiration pneumonia again and are going to have a feeding tube installed in your intestine because it's no longer safe for you to eat or drink.] You're there because you [have to undergo emergency surgery because the new feeding tube caused a life-threatening bowel obstruction.] You're there because you [were so weakened by the last year that you're having trouble walking.] You're there because [you've been so weakened by the last year and a half that your heart might be giving out. Actually, your heart is doing okay. Turns out, it's your lungs that can no longer function.] 

Everyone you can hear is trying to help you

I guess I just have to trust you 

You can trust me. 

You are safe. This is really hard. You are so strong

You're going to feel better as soon as we get you home 

That's going to be so soon, Dad 

I promise 

No living or sleeping aloud

 

It's been a long time since I've written love poems 

I didn't realize how much I believed was over 

All my scandals are internal 

In the picture of us both what I'm looking at is me 

Tenderness is possible 

It's morning. You have to go outside 

agree to degree

 

I expect the same kind of dance: kindness followed by its revocation 

Is this what all humans do? 

I have never been certain that he won't turn on me 

Is that normal?

No one has asked me why I like ferns before

I want to show you the person I am now 

I can sense what respect looks like 

If a door is closed, I won't keep knocking 

below freezing

 

In truth I've been loving the cold 

It's like the deep tissue massage, elbows sunk into flesh 

Pressure familiar and, somehow, almost comforting 

It hasn't pained me 

Not for me to break the silence 

I am using this as an opportunity to practice being who I am now 

I will not countenance subordination 

If a fight breaks out, I trust myself to discern: 

walk away, or finish it 

I wish I could turn into a baby kangaroo and climb into your pocket

 

In the pocket I wouldn't be visible to others, so they wouldn't think to ask things of me 

In the pocket I wouldn't have to see all the things going wrong 

In the dark, deep pocket I wouldn't need to make my own warmth

I could curl into yours. I wouldn't feel so cold 

solstice swap

 

Remember, you owe very little here 

There is part of you still mindful of how much pain awaits whenever you look up from this 

It's sensical 

Craving distance from all that suffering 

Still 

I can't put on rose-colored glasses

I've lived too much hurt 

It wouldn't be prudent 

the language of beauty

 

in the woods the snow keeps falling 

it cradles the banks and swallows the creeksound

the air is a soft wet cloud 

the rocks are slick with snowflakes  

the stately green hemlocks and the wet-green ferns  

soggy oak leaves up to our ankles 

so much insect potential 

we walk, ask questions, listen 

at the confluence, we pause 

look up up up the rock face, flakes catching our chins 

hop wet rocks across the creek 

tread the half-moon trail above the water 

we walk until the energy shifts

we all feel it 

 

the heluva good dip is done

 

I'm like a tea bag

swelling in hot water 

taut to bursting 

I probably shouldn't be doing this 

It's the curiosity that's captured me 

I don't know if you're fucking with me 

Is this what the early stages of addiction feel like 

You think, is it really that big of a deal? 

You think, how bad could this one time hurt? 

You think, don't I deserve a little relief? 

I'll just have a little taste 

I wished for percussion

 

Am I too loyal? 

Why am I trying so hard 

Is reciprocation possible 

Why do so many people seem to not give a shit 

Are we so broken? 

Is it really that hard to care? 

I feel like I'm nothing but caring 

It tenses my shoulders, stiffens my inner thighs 

Yes he's kind now but what about all the years before this 

What about six months from now 

Haven't you waited long enough 

So much of his growth at my expense 

And what about June  

Do I ever get a turn to be bad? 

I miss my Dad so much 

I just want to talk to him 

It was your turn, maybe 

I won't read too much in to it 

I'm trying not to get attached to people or to outcomes 

You're on your own, kid 

I'm covered in poison ivy 

The cat didn't mean it but he scratched my arm and I bled 

Something is gained by the elimination of the question mark

 

Can you sit with me and talk this through? 

I'm not nomadic any more 

The gladiators are juicing 

Everything I thought I'd remember I've forgotten 

Where are you now and now and now? 

I hope the poison doesn't come back 

Here is a concrete image to ground you 

The concrete is beige and hard to the touch 

Is it a problem? 

I've mostly stopped dreaming 

Am I simply more real now, more resigned to it? 

Is that progress or regression

Is this why adults need to spend time with children? 

I've grown so much more serious 

In the green-green moss garden where water seeps from stones 

There is a part of me that still wants to sleep under the stars 

Do I remember what it feels like to be alive? 

Is the feeling different now? 

I'm afraid your standards for other people are too high and you're going to wind up alone

 

how many types of sensation am i 

how long have i suppressed the longing

how long have i believed it could never be satisfied, 

or that i was not permitted to want 

all that energy roiling in my stomach 

the hunger has awakened. it's ravenous  

the moon calendar

 

I feel that old lurch in my stomach —

I'm gonna eat the cream top 

The people are noticing 

That's the good news 

With the tree in the house my whole body feels better 

I wish for more time in the trees 

I am eating almond flour crackers with my one wild and precious life 

I miss the snow 

I envision dropping with you into the cave 

it's now called pastanito

 

Never ascribe to malice what could be explained by oblivion 

I hate going to their house now; I hate feeling the absence of him 

I have grace for my desire to feel something different 

Always I am living in the forest 

People usually don't know unless you tell them 

on desire

 

I. I remember squeezing one of those squishy tube toys as a kid, the rubber lurching out of my hand and the delight of the sensation, how it would wriggle from one palm to the other as I exclaimed for the feel of it

II. On the table there is a moment when I am arching away from the pain, back of my head slipping from the edge as my hands grip the sheets beneath me, and I think how similar this posture is to the experience of pleasure 

III. He opens his pants and I take him into my mouth 

power trio

 

on this bed lie three strong girls 

two of them enrobed in black fur