Tag: writing

Rocking Chair

Alphabet Ravine7 Comments

You don’t want to lie down, but it’s not time to run,
so you arch, throw yourself, scream, dive, and you hate me.
I bring you to myself and calm your body down.
You tire out then wake slightly, force some side-eye
like you trust me, and I slide you to your bed
as seamlessly as I can, deep-breathing in your ear
until you’re long-lost. You sleep long enough to little more
than recover, sit up in your bed and smile, start whining for me.
I say, “Come here,” and you wedge between my thighs,
contentedly rest your head on my leg, and you need me.
I pat your back, so you switch your face to my stomach.
You’ve forgiven me. Oh, you see your twin has the doll you like,
so you squeak, forget me. You go out to the world,
glance backwards at me, loving me, and carry on.

Daddy

Alphabet Ravine6 Comments

Sometimes I think the funniest thing about him is that I found him normal-

Getting pulled over, breaking down, breaking back in,
my bloody hand from climbing a fence to get to school and the mysterious sock
that we used to clot, and how that was god.

Rock walls tied to the truck while directing traffic on the interstate
so that ducks could pass- It was

SMOOTH AS BUTTER! BOWL OF SUGAR! WHOO-Read More »

Carrie

Alphabet Ravine1 Comment

I couldn’t tell what Ma was cooking,
nor growing in her flower garden,

but sweet and spicy scents told me
that it was something good.

Neither do I know where Carrie
comes from with extraordinary

aromas exuding from her I would
bottle if I could.

Hear

Alphabet Ravine6 Comments

You never croak, but you roar like a frog.
You bark an extended note, though you never howl.

You write her love songs, drunk on ale.
Buzzed on tea, I ink the sound down.

‘S’alright. My pen’s as neutered
as I always said it was.

And my love’s as strong as you strike
those chords

over, and over, and over again. Sway side to side.

I see the curves that your hips don’t make, man,Read More »