The Model

When I made funny faces
and the boys laughed
at me naturally

I thought
they were laughing
with me for so long

When I thought
to show off my ballet skills
to help them understand

my saute they laughed
but I wasn’t making a face

I wasn’t normal
my brain still doesn’t
process what IS
in time with the world

then they told me to move
off the couch
told me I wasn’t worthy

when i bit back
they called me out
as a dog

and then they labeled
me The Model
for not knowing my place
in the backround

i tried to get smaller
but my mouth wouldn’t
listen she was so pissed
but I wasn’t ready yet

words came without confedence
so the bigger
the louder my mouth
became the smaller I felt

honesty,
I’m still fighting this war
against my mouth
for talking before my body

and against my body
for thinking she should
be backround

and so
to breathe

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The wick

Shattered on the roof
a candle softens the shards
so it’s possible to place them
into posable figurines

She likes the idea
of molding choas
into a soft ball and
shaping impossibly dense
human bodies

Decides to hurd them
into empty armies
helpless with their heads
so full, she smiles

until the wick times out
and Kaboom!
the world is blown apart
with the dark and her hands
shattered up here
on the roof

Under the Stairs

Under the stairs
where dreams gather
proud felines prowl
with eyes that reflect
no light so that
when they run away
to play with the things
behind seeing
I don’t follow

Under the stairs
where emotions hide
that’s where I keep
mine anyways so I
can say hello and
be polite without
the need to hide
crumbling
under the stairs

No Filter

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pulled under this
mom-ified morning
drowning
in Lunch boxes
and breakfast smoothies

“where’s your socks?
(5 times)
brush your hair!
(4 times)
are you wearing underwear?”
(just once!)

bundle up
touque, buff, mitts
charge out into
unfiltered
half night find space
to look up
pause together
grateful

Waves in the sky
crash dry against
stable mountain peaks

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2 Minutes

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Ice bubbles wretchedly
through the dark corners
of my secret pond
thunder echoes through
this dark December valley.
Meets with the sky as
fireworks explode in the distance
curiously small against rundle range
Darkness expelled for a moment
I can see the way the lights and colors
reflect through his frosty eyelashes
Darkness returns
mixed with whoops and hollers like aftershocks
echo hollow through this new January night
another bubble gurgles closer to the surface
but there is no thunder no cracks
it’s a new beginning
Two minutes between this year and last