for mom
when i was young i used to believe the sweet lies
my mother whispered in my ear.
when i was young i would ride down to the five & dime
12 minutes there and back.
23.
if i pedaled slow
i could avoid her whiskey words and smoke stained skin
i knew so well,
when i was young.
when i was young, braided pig tails and sweet tea filled summer nights.
our brown grass -
and rusted pipes -
and bare feet on broken bottles.
take me back to the home we lived in.
the memories i’ve long since forgotten
and those she never bothered to remember.
when i was young -
lightning bugs and thunder skies
cloud my memory and
drown her sorrows.
when i was young
i didn’t believe in fairytales.
but when i was young
i always believed in her
a girl is a knife
the christmas of 1998 all I asked for was an easy bake oven.
i wanted to bake my mom brownies
with sprinkles.
i hoped the sweet sugar would melt on her tongue and
replace the bitter words that came so naturally.
the christmas of 2001 all I asked for was a bike.
i wanted to ride down the road
down // down // down
into the woods or into a world, any world, other than mine.
the christmas of 2011 all I asked for was a book.
Anna Karenina, I thought.
because even though she was doomed
at least she got the chance to feel alive
this christmas all I’m asking for is a knife
to chop off my hair, and shorten my skirt.
to cut out my heart, alongside my fear.
to end their control and with it, my limits.
a girl is a knife, and i’m yielding a blade.
girls
little girls grow up to be unruly women
girls taught to be seen // not heard
lipstick smeared off with bruised knuckles
pink dresses frayed // ripped to the seam in dark basements
girls trudging through their days asking when they will be seen // not heard
silent screams held back, effortlessly
on the playground they run, pink dresses, frayed
“why don’t you give me a smile”
silent screams held back, effortlessly
learning the ways to be less
“won’t you give me a smile, sweetheart?”
biting their tongues // becoming accustomed to the taste of blood in their mouths
learning the ways to be less
it is better to be voiceless than to be disobedient
but, someday, suddenly. they grow tired – of biting their tongues // of the taste of blood in their mouths
one day // they talk back
decide it is better to be disobedient than voiceless
whose rules are we breaking, anyway?
overture
do you remember -
running bare foot through the untamed grass on that october evening?
crisp leaves consumed your toes and your psyche
you became -
afraid
of falling
in the dirt
&
from your mother’s good graces
but
more afraid of never existing untethered to that land
which consumed all it touched
i’m sorry
for never letting you chase those pipe dreams
&
for convincing you of your own inadequacy
i’m sorry
for looking in the mirror
&
only ever hating who peered back
do you remember
what you wanted to be
when you grew up?
‘a meteorologist’
you’d say
because you thought it sounded smart
do you remember –
that first night our head went fuzzy?
the bitter taste of stolen liquor as
cigarette smoke snuck through your best friend’s lips
those lips you wanted so badly to kiss.
i’m sorry
i wasn’t stronger then
& i’m just as weak, still
do you remember
what you said that first time a boy kissed you?
‘more’
you lied
because you thought he’d make you full
i’m sorry
i never gave you the chance to be infinite
i came crawling out of that once forgiving flesh
at 16
because
at 16
anything soft
reminded me
of decency
and decency
reminded me
how much I lacked
i’m sorry
i was never enough for you
or you, me
do you remember - running bare foot through the untamed grass on that october evening?
crisp leaves consumed your musings
you remember –
how hard you tried to forget -
that
fall leaves abandon their trees
for their own survival
and suddenly you began -
to forgive.