How clear is your mind’s eye?
Does yours zero in on your trove of wisdom?

My turf is confusion.
Facing chaos, while threatens despair
and narratives unravel.

How comfortable am I,
in labyrinth—
all I’ve known,

The schoolmaster shoved a smorgasbord 
of poems down our throats, so that we would know
that poems can be anything so poems can be good,
even possible. But I’ve swallowed too many

The first time they fired the gun that lives inside my chest,
you stopped the bleeding—

almost like you loved me
or had ulterior motive.

There’s nothing better than the best holiday dish,
and nothing worse than the best dish prepared badly.

Our matriarch was never much for traditions,
more one for meeting everybody’s shifting needs.

you are everything i’ve never known
and i’ve never been
one for asking questions

Oh, she’s a lot,
though she’s not too much.