Used To

I'm used to a lot of things.

I'm used to a torrent of emotions

I'm used to waiting for them

to change on their own

I'm used to not owning my

emotions or choices to change things

and recently

I may have gotten used to

not being myself.

Maybe I had to get used to that -

to being another person I didn't

necessarily know, or like -

in order to make the choice

to change my emotions.

To get used to better things.

~August 2010

Bulb

My brain is a black lightbulb

waiting to burn out.

Break its shard shell

and let in the light

that I cannot seem to

turn on myself.

~August 2010

Sails

What a treacherous sea I sail
in my boat of fear.
Perched on its glass bottom,
I can never be sure
if I am safe from the wide waters
that lie below me,
swarming with every possibility.
My gaze is fixed.
No regard for what sky
may spread above me,
or what sails may take me there.

~August 2010

Little tricks

Look how we change shape
living through our generations:
my mother taught me,
from her mother,
how to iron a wet ribbon
across a hot lightbulb.
These little necessary tricks,
so short-lived --
there was a time before lightbulbs,
and who has need now
for a length of ribbon?
Even lightbulbs
have changed their shape.

July 2010

Pomegranate

Maybe not an onion,
layers peeling back layers
of the same;
maybe something webbed,
many-chambered.
My heart is a pomegranate.
Crimp and crenellation over
seeds bursting with secrets,
every wish wrapped in
tissue like skin, skin like
tissue.
Every fold a layer between
me and the world.
Me and myself.
Unwrap me and I unwrap
myself,
spilling secrets like seeds
into my hands.
I'll offer some to you.

~November 2009

Constellation

I turn out the lights
in my old room,
after packing up my things,
and the stars are lit up.
I remember the sky that night,
the grass sparkling at our feet,
the way our minds form
a constellation.
The brightest star has fallen
from the ceiling,
but that is you,
glowing steady at my door.

~November 28 2009

Dream

You write words of me,
of soft, and sliding
deep, like fish in your mind.
I read your words and
silence slips into me,
my eyelids closing like
a smile at you,
reaching you in my mind,
holding your hand in a dream.

~November 28, 2009