The Yellow Brick Ave

Smoke and Soot

a free verse poem

Smoke and soot.

A candle left to burn for too long.

A campfire just waiting to become cold.

Unused logs.

Waiting for another winter.

Beige and brown and chopped.

A recently demolished treehouse,

now a childhood memory.

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Bonding Time

a free verse poem

We pluck some of the seedling plants to make room for the others, and I tell you my hair has gotten too long.

You disagree.

You tell me that the book without words made you cry, and I tell you, “Me, too,” but without saying anything aloud.

Your hand rests on my thigh just above my knee as I drive. Your touch reminds me of sunshine.

I think I can smell the pulse under your skin. You show me how it’s right beneath the surface.

I make you promise to dance with me in the kitchen.

So many disparate truths build a life and a happy one at that.

I don’t know where to go from here.

You say, “Forward, of course.”

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Virtual Connection

a free verse stream of consciousness poem

Virtual connection with nearly ten thousand people—

My ancestors never knew

such kinship and overwhelm.

My body is separated from the laptop

with a thin mustard yellow blanket.

There’s beauty in these human voices.

There’s beauty in these typed out words.

People on my screen or in?

Probably in.

My sweater is warm.

My bare feet are cold.

Outside, the air is nearly still.

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The girl stood by the well. The fall air was crisp, surprising. Was it not just yesterday that she had longed for the late night sun of early summer? It always felt like she was waiting for warmth and light or letting it slip from her grasp. Like she never fully had it.

The well was dry. One can only offer water to so many who pass by before reaching the dregs. And it’s not like she could add more, couldn’t bring herself to dip into anyone else’s well and risk taking what they needed. It didn’t work that way. One cannot simply take without invitation. She had to wait for more rain to come and fill it.

She hoped maybe one day, someone would bring a sip of water for her from their own well, but of course she would never venture from her spot as guardian of that-which-once-held-hydration to go ask, and no one knew to bring any to her.

The well was dry. The wind was crisp. The crescent moon still offered light. She stood there in its beam, parched, guarding her empty well.

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Head to Toe

a free verse poem

My bed still isn’t pushed up against the wall the way we talked about, but I don’t mind that. What I mind is that it will be half empty tonight and not nearly as warm.

Speaking of mind, I can’t seem to get you off of mine. My brain leans into thoughts of you the way my body might lean into a reassuring hug. I feel embraced and not suffocated by that presence. I didn’t know that was possible.

I remember your arms. I think of how they look reaching, how they look working, how they feel safe.

I used to fantasize about fantastical places and a luxurious life, but this safety is more than enough. In fact, it is what I didn’t know I was searching for. It is everything I ever wanted.

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