Stark Blessing

i get to your house without
ever groping for directions
you are in the roads
and thinking of you, i find
the way again and again

Foolhardy, we take the wrong
way on the Mass Pike � Ralph
Nader posters and cereal
boxes in the back seat i hope
we look like two girls
on an adventure

We are assaulted by rain,
drive straight through
and turn around as the sun
erupts over a rest stop
vending machine trailer
the road fills our spaces
like an ultimate blessing

until night when bed
time is stark and crowded, you wrap
yourself in all the blankets
and the moon guards us
four girls at the edge
of a lake at the edge
of leaving and waking
we hide the emotions
but not the fact
of our tangled nights


Poetry
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home
for Hannah on the eve of her seventeenth birthday

she needs a cigarette so we climb
out the window. it would be romantic if
you weren�t so nervous, gripping
the edge of the sill, loosing
a sandal in the gap between bush
and house. Red hair and pale skin
you lie on the grass in the dark
half silhouetted by the light
from her parent�s window.
There are no stars. I try
to reflect the ember of her cigarette
in my eye to show you
but you just lie there. You could be
the Lady of Shallot, floating
to Camelot. But you start senior year
tomorrow and even college has no castles to offer.
We sleep in the guest bed and
without my glasses I glance at you,
breath and gravity escape
me. I wish I could tell you this,
but though you talk constantly
there is more said in our silences
and stories of your past that fall
into my lap like cigarette ash


Memorial in Syllables

this is for Fred Martinez, Jr.
this is for Brandon Teena and Juan Barron,
J.R. Warren, Jr. and

this is for the bar, this is for leaving the bar,
this is for darkness and firewood and broom handles and guns.
this is for spilled blood.

Vanessa Lorena Ledesma, Berdardino Verastique
and Alina Marie Barragan. this is for
Barry Winchell and�

this is for my brothers and sisters
the immortalized ones
the ones God and Media forgot.

this is for fields and streets
for rainbows and holding hands
this is for all of us who awaken to say
it could have been me, it could have been you

Matthew Shepard, Regan Wolf
and Richard Reihl this is
for Willie Houston, Terrianne Summers
and Aaron Webber

this is a memorial in syllables
because they will never erect one in stone for you
after candle wax� has dripped onto dirt
and the light leaves silence behind
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