Picnic
Why does it always rain on picnic days?
I stumble, picking up the pace
Still, I’m just shy of the group
that somehow knows one another
deeper than I can dive,
which isn’t saying much
They exchange stories like money
smiles like candy
laughs like party favors
before I stop
as they spread, starfish
on beach blankets
and swallow sandwiches
not knowing
that I know
the rain is on its way
because it always rains on picnic days
The Heat in August
Cotton swabs strung along a sea of blue
threading through gusts of wind
which carry me to a place
white-walled and cement-floored
walked on with worn shoes
thinned with time and eager energy
I reach a door I’ve never opened
with a beating in my chest
that screams excitement, but the nerves linger
catching on breaths
wiping my beaded face–
a gift from the August heat
a new beginning
Here in the Wind
The wind drowns out the words
swirling, interweaving,
pulsing in my head
I stand at the top
with cars below
the honking is dizzying
Feet unsteady
legs limp
hands outstretching
An ambulance whines
obstructed by selfish drivers
consumed by oblivion
Frigid air
sets pimples on my skin
and escapes into the night
A cold sweat on my temples
ushered by my racing heart
and that knot in my stomach
I try to remember
what carried me here
to this moment
in the wind
Before Ruin
This was my attempt at illusion photography! It was tricky to get the right angles as the string spun, but I love how they turned out! (Side note: No wine glasses were harmed in the making of these photos.)
Looking ahead to the summer and Fall 2023 semester is intimidating but exciting! Don’t forget to live in the moment, learn all you can, and try to have fun in the process!
My Secret
You said my secret
was safe
in your locked box
made of rib bones
You said you bundled it up
in a cream-colored cloth
and tied it with string
so the pieces wouldn’t fall out
You said when you heard it
you took a key to your mouth
twisted it shut
and swallowed
Because there are listening ears
and sly fingers
there to consume
The secret that floats in my face
foaming from your mouth
between us and everyone
Where are the promises
the bond in the box
the oath tied with string
In the air with everything else
that you said was safe
in your locked box
made of rib bones
