POEM A DAY 2020

awkward gifts

it's
like a book about sex
and
how to do it right
cause you seemed like
you wanted help?
am i right?
oh
now it's awkward
huh
just like return it or
throw it away
but
just like
be environmentally friendly about it
okay?

you are the 10 year old habit
i don't want to kick
even when it'd be better for my health
i am the rug you wipe your feet on
always there ready
for more dirt when i should be in the wash

home poem

when i sit in your new house
i miss the old house
the eggshell walls
the dent where the yoyo hit when we were home alone and fighting
the pencil drawing we placed too high on the wall
an attempt to hide the evidence so obvious,
raising immediate questions
the giant fireplace where so many moments were captured together
the only separation of the living and dining rooms
the piles of mail on the kitchen counter
the breakfast nook we stopped sitting at
your new house is pure white
plain and characterless
and you're different too
constantly wiping down counters and washing dishes you didn't use
nervous questions and angry explosions
pretending to be happy
and now
i don't want to be near you or your new house

communication poem

a book told me that passive communicators will fuck it all right up
and i, the passive communicator, in trying to be more direct
still manage to fuck it all right up
my passivity has failed me
my attempts at directivity have failed me
i, the passively direct failure, i am
so am i

countdown poem

i have 9 minutes to write this poem
it seems i'm rushing always lately
and i like to slow down
but now when i slow down all i want is sleep
and i can't sleep now
i have 8 minutes to finish this poem
it seems i have no idea what this poem is really about
and i wonder why i bother writing it
but i suppose the act of writing makes me stronger
and i'm better for it now
i have 7 minutes to find a way to end this poem
it seems my countdown is in line with the clock
and each section takes exactly 1 minute
but now i'm behind schedule
i have 5 minutes to write this poem
it seems i really don't have anything else to say
and it's just dragging on now
but i've started it so i'll finish it
i have 4 minutes left to write this poem
it seems that's all there is
and i'm done
but i still have 3 minutes left to think about what i wrote

Ghost

an epiphany
I had it once
10.5 years later
then came you
back to shatter what I thought I realized
about us
my oh so miraculous discovery
that epiphany before you and after you and about you
back to tell me everything has changed and everything is just the same
you have grown and you have remained just the same
you are the ghost that haunts me and the ghost I never want to leave

fake

i'm not who anyone wants me to be
they don't even have to tell me bluntly
i see their face--
the silence
the sideways looks of annoyance
but i'm already stuck
so
they try setting boundaries
and creating constraints
wanting me to do things their way
and
i really try
but i can't
i'm always failing at being the person i'm not
and i wonder do they even really like me
if that's who i'm not

fuck you--
a text
from dad,
and that was the moment
our relationship started to end

mom moment

we all have blue eyes
their mom
them
me
i like going to the grocery store with her because when she walks away
people come up to me and say
"oh my goodness they look just like you!"
and
"oh! they have your eyes"
and i get to pretend for a moment
that i'm a mom
and it's over
before they scream and cry
before the tantrums
before the moment i regret having kids

The Joke

I told a bad joke
like really bad
evil bad
Someone told it to me in college
and everyone thought it was funny because it was so horrible
the kind of joke where the response to the punchline is always someone declaring “that’s awful!”
and I warned everyone how bad it was before I told it
and I tried not to tell it
but they insisted
when I finished I regretted telling it
and someone declared “that’s awful”
and I said “I told you it would be!”

and later that night you told me
how sick you got
when you lost your health insurance
and your meds ran out
and you were hospitalized
when the HIV turned to full blown AIDS
and how my dad isn’t supposed to know

And all I can think about is that joke I told
And how I wish I could take it back
And five years later how it still haunts me
And  I wonder what you think of me
And if anything changed between us because I told that joke before I knew anything
And I don’t know if I’ve ever told you how sorry I am for that joke

talk

they always tell me
i’m too quiet
i don’t say much
they can’t hear me
i’m always talking
planning it out
thinking in poems and lyrics
while he sings nonsensical songs that only i understand
and even if i spoke aloud
i wouldn’t be able to get a word in
because we all just want everyone else to listen