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

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.”


Photo by Dua Chuot 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

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”

Yeah, I Think

I like it here.

The heat of the lid is unbearable. My fingers have lost their ability to withstand that kind of warmth.

I swear I could handle it when I worked at a restaurant.

I could also heft those cardboard boxes containing a heavy bag of soda syrup.

Sometimes, I would gently poke a finger through the hole I would rip in the cardboard, feeling the squish of the plastic pouch and the sugar water.

I was never a huge fan of soft drinks before, but even less so after hauling those boxes around the basement and hooking them up to the tubing that ran to the soda machine upstairs.

I also don’t really eat food warm anymore, either. Flavors seem more balanced to me when they are at room temperature, but they’re not bad cold either.

I will make an exception this time.

Maybe I’m ravenous.

Maybe this food isn’t the only thing I hunger for.

Maybe I would like this moment to last a lot longer, but maybe I would like to get onto the next one and the next and the next.

I just hope those future moments are as good as this one.

All of this is to say yeah, I think I like it here.


Photo by Castorly Stock via Pexels