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
Pathological
A gun to his heart
a bullet struck a rib on its way
to the living room wall
I knew a boy
struck by lightening in the third grade
and again in the fourth
In April my legs gave way
like a rainy day
I tumbled down the cliffside
I suspect she killed her husband
last autumn, in the evening
I heard crunching
A beam of light
cut through the tree line
and took the cow across the pier
I was birthed speaking
syllabic sentences
and passionate paragraphs
My first words were,
“Don’t trust a thing,”
because it’s pathological, I promise
All of It
I’ve got you
Don’t look down
at the enormity of it all
at everything to do
at everything you might not do
at everything you don’t want to do
at all the things you regret
at all the things you don’t
the mistakes
the failures
the greatest fears
the mortifying moments
and painful memories
that don’t dull like they should
in the cracks
of your deepest insecurities
where lies the secrets
I hold them too
Don’t look down
I’ve got you
