Ode to an Old Grey Sweatshirt

I.

Dear you,
  Do you remember winters in Tallahassee-
more Georgia than Florida-I slid into you perfectly?
You were there as I became someone I was barely aware I was becoming.

II.

Dear you,
   I think sometimes now, I search for you
in the sleeves and pockets of others.
Test their weight on my shoulders to see if it feels the same--
it hasn't yet.

III.

Dear you,
   It's funny, I can see a blurry panorama of our years together;
never solid on the memory of when we first met, but
I can tell you distinctly how we parted:

A crisp November night, I was jetlagged and bedraggled, clutching
Logan struggling against my lap.
I felt his last breath through your threadbare length
and knew that moment was imprinted in you
knew, I'd never be comforted by you again.

The next afternoon we covered his body with you, a shroud
buried you both and hoped
you gave him half the comfort you always gave me.

Dream

Sometimes,
I dream

about her

PAD2016 11

Because he is a man
I had to explain what it is to be a woman
how we worry about our bodies more
how we dissect the looks we receive in public places
package them, the worse gifts
we give ourselves over and over again

PAD 2016 9

It is easy
to allow a stranger to take my hand
trace lines in my palm that I have played with for years
for them to say "see,
we are all the same; deep lines:
we have lived, are living..."

It is easy and not frightening
how simple it is that we might be the same.

PAD 2016 7b

We are about the work of twilight,
the dreams that spindle out from our fingers. 

PAD 2016 7

I have tuned out of this world because the frequency is off
the energies have become too fragile to power
anything worthwhile.  We are
vibrating because we don't know another way to move. We have no idea of the power
to rebuild
to correct
to try again.

PAD 2016 6

We are wasting daylight
thinking of Tomorrows when Today
is waiting for us to open our eyes
and look at her.

PAD 2016 5

So we wait for the dam to break
and try partitioning our lives into plastic bags
of what we hope matters the most.

PAD 2016 4

Even when I think I am
I am rarely as on time as I at first believe
counting seconds while everyone else is tracking hours
and minutes while they're on days;
asynchronous, I am a shifting of sands.

PAD 3 2016

Because we are light refracting around flesh we are sensitive to higher frequencies;
we are waves settling.  Alpha
energized the length of two crests from each other
seeing but never touched.

PAD 2016 1

I have not put words to paper poetically in weeks
and it is my own fault.  Instead,
I have allowed words to wither inside my head
a field of dying couplets
a desert of promises I made myself
another failing resolution.

PAD 26

I am drunk
on this whirlwind
called life or living.

PAD 24

I dream of you
faceless entity
and energy felt in the ether, familiar
but unknown.

PAD 23

My cells explode
multiply into a billion other pieces of me
a dividing particle
a tiny evolution under my skin.

PAD 22

When I dream
in color
I am always the heroine,
the savior; never
the saved.

PAD 21

I am the rain
drowning the city
devouring the pedestrians.

PAD 19

There's a song somewhere quiet;
playing on repeat
only your heart can hear its rhythm.

PAD 18

Even if I think about it everyday,
all day or
my daydreams have become so realistic
that I shiver walking
I will allow patience to prevail,
will allow my will the space to show-off.

PAD 17

Grey skies
streaking rain
and leaves.

Smeared pollen
dissolving new blossoms
and watering the concrete.

PAD 16

My hands are calloused
and scarred
chipped nails and stained
but they have lived
struggled, fought--
and they are mine.