Where would we be
if we were one
without a self?
Perhaps our kitchens
would be less dated;
our calendars would be
slashed with checks
and thorough lines.
The women in line
at the deli counter
would struggle for some cash
and reverence,
pay up on gas and tobacco.
The little boy on 6th street
would not waver
from the line he drew
in the sand at his waterfront
beach house, asking why it is
the water must turn over
and over–
and, like a switch,
we turn to the next page.
Do men wonder
what they look like
in a mirror, on camera,
opposed to the eyes of a loved one,
or their own soft pupils?
Do men question
their lack of hips and say,
“Hey, I should be plumper there
but still maintain my thigh gap.”
I stare at my own and wonder
What men do that I cannot,
if it is real or a facade,
if feminism is something
I can joke at– or if I am
less of a woman by doing so.*
I wonder what men would wonder
if they could see a woman wondering…
May 10, 2014
*I wanted to note that I am not against feminism in any way– I am all for equal rights for both men and women in every form. These lines allude to some joking a friend (another young woman) and I would do at the start of the feminist movement, when it was still unclear to us that just because it is called feminism, does not mean we are only looking at women’s rights– it’s about equality for all.
I will convert,
for you,
twenty seven times over
in order to spin Earth’s axis
back to it’s original
position.
My secret haven,
original,
right,
cool to the touch
skin on skin
and I believe again
that I can win
when my feet are tired
two at a time
again
I wish it was you
holding the umbrella in the rain,
to kiss me goodnight
under some station light
I knew had flickered out
yesterday.
September 24, 2014
See the light
start again
waiting
for the second coming
surprised
when it comes
loving
moments like these
stopping
to forget regrets
over the shoulder
near heart
to take the pain away
see it, now
coming closer
closing
in on me
and my story
speeding up
August 24, 2014
The reason I know
what lies behind the velvet curtain
is that I have been there before:
horses in a stable,
easing back their heels
to embrace the swelling sun,
their own bright eye;
a set of doubled doors
leading to nowhere–––
to everywhere in the life of a man
remembering what it was like
to be a child, to fall in love,
to laugh at those like myself
foals in a busy world of emotion,
keeping kosher and drinking tea
for long hours into the night
imagining what it was like
before we swept the curtain away.
June 16, 2014
We’re all
on a journey
to let go.
Who said
that the cat’s in the cradle
when my arm’s in a sling
with my head wrapped down
like four corners of a box
under the tree?
I can break a limb
but not my heart—
and God forbid my mind.
When flashbacks come to me
like scenes from a movie
and all I can think is,
“Was that me yesterday
or 7 years ago?”
Could it be both?
Could it be
that our “selves”
are continually packaged,
not perfectly with a bow
but pinned down like craft paper,
a collage of foam
on the edge of the wave
that must crash down
before we reach the shore?
August 7, 2014
It’s where I learned
that not all friendships
can sail off, into the dawn.
My new day
has pardoned your wave,
asked all, then nothing of it.
I can stand straight,
tall as a sailor
waiting for a lifeboat
that may never come.
And yet there are others
out there, waiting.
I am not alone tugging.
I am letting go,
wondering if all that love
can still be wrapped up
like a gift in the current.
June 28, 2014
