My Words Might Fail

One day, when the moon is in the sky, I will reach out to touch it. I might hope for an embrace that it cannot reciprocate. I might stumble in its light. I might weep. I might struggle to move that insurmountable rock. I might try to replace it with other rock. I might lean against craggy walls, learning what every cliff face looks like from the bottom. I might hurt.

One day, when the sun is in the sky, I will tap my fingers on the dining table. The wood might maintain my prints. It might not. I might stare longingly out the window. My gaze might race to meet the horizon faster than my legs could ever run. I might lie down on the floor. I might rest. I might face my greatest fears. I’m not sure I yet know what those are.

One day, when the moon is in the sky, I might not be there to see it.


featured photo by Dids via Pexels

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.


Photo by PNW Production from Pexels

If I Were

the blades of grass

A Free Verse Poem

If I were

the wind whipping through your hair

on late night drives with the windows down

after the rain just stopped,

leaving the road shiny and slick with wetness

and the smell of damp asphalt still permeating the air,

would you then believe

Continue reading “If I Were”

By the River

The downpour must be waiting for something.

A Free Verse Poem

All the spent brush littering the hillside to the right,

mostly brown to the left as well,

railroad tracks not far behind, hidden by the slopes.

“I swear it’s beautiful in the spring.”

Continue reading “By the River”