Messy

Messy

But I don't know how to make messes! I like folding laundry and sweeping dirt into dust pans and being proud of the careful words I have written.

But when am I ever truly proud? Even when I write carefully, slowly, like someone is watching over my shoulder. I consult the many voices in my head before I even begin to write actual words. I filter, analyze, protect, shy-away-from the rawness of new words. By the time they reach the paper, they are no longer newborn.

Sipping (for Angie)

Sipping (for Angie)

the desert sun
burning
your lips
reflecting
the airborne dust
landing
in your ginger tea

Communion

bread so chewy and dense
it needs wine to swallow
like my own communion

in this sacred kitchen
christmas apron 'round
my still-thin waist

i take and eat and drink
for this is my body
broken but beautiful

Wind/Untitled

Wind

The wind leaves its scent on
my brown towel,
the one that used to smell of
boxes and time and dormancy

Revival. Reawakening.

I am still unpacking my bags,
still smelling the smells of
the past.

Untitled

What will we do with you?
Your unkempt hair
Your bitten nails
Your inappropriate dreams

Didn't/Humdrum Haiku

Didn't

Here is what we didn't do:

Fight
Wash dishes
Take the bus
Swear
Confront
Use the laundromat
Go hungry
Smoke or drink
Question our faith
Move
Shock
Realize our privileges

But I wanted--I want--to do much more.
I want to be more. Feel more. Touch more.

Ask. Move. Shake.
Question until my mind gives up.
I want to shock you.

All my wanting is too much.
You're afraid. I am not safe.
I am not the idea you had of me.
I am a Mystery, even to myself.
I am Other.
I will not be who you want me to be.

Haiku One

What if I scream it:
Yes, I'm watching the cookies!
I've got this apron.

Haiku Two: For Noah

moon stuck in the clouds
nightlight for this frightened child
mother of the sky

Haiku Three

you taught me to love
untamed, room for the wildness
that we know so well

Vinegar (October)

Vinegar (October)

The house smells faintly
of vinegar
the neighbor's dogs
for once: silent

spicy tea that tastes
of Nepal
rests on the coffee table,
waiting

I am waiting,
with clouded hope,
a heart ungrounded,
guiltily

I should be doing
more of the Right Things:
asserting, projecting
myself into the world
finding work outside
this vinegar-scented house

certainly not
sipping tea in silence

Purple

Purple

I will

hammer that nail
wherever it suits me

stuff my apron pockets
full of garden tomatoes

stand on a stool
to knead my bread

eat my carrots whole
raw, unpeeled, purple

not match my clothing
with my purse
(not even carry a purse if i don't want to)

celebrate my body
in nakedness, in clothing

decide who i am
and (i will) be that

i will be.