h8rs.

to know that you are not lying to yourself

what a good, good feeling

so leave your narrowed eyes and raised eyebrows outside

the ones who hate linger at doorsteps waiting to be swept away

so go away

and let me messy hair fall wherever it pleases

pleasing you is pointless

so wait outside my door frame, please

i will deal with you when my common sense freezes

the grateful life.

every prayer will start this way

thank you

for my legs born straight

my eyes, not blind

undamaged brain

teeth straight

water to drink to fill my

stomach that accepts food

clean air that can fill my lungs

my dad, alive

windows and walls

ears, oh my dear god

ears

ability to feel

accept

every prayer will start this way

thank you

for the past, cracked but whole

for the present, lovely and fearful

and for the future, lucky and open

steeples and crosses

clothes and fingers

electricity and teachers

every prayer will start this way

for loving people

safety

every prayer will start this way

thank you

allele.

the particles that hold us strong are collections of hopeless wrongs

leading us to hope and smile

then leaving us in cold denial

build it up,

break it down

muscles warm, cold, then

down

fabric of the gods.

although i find my skin breaking

and voice cracking

my body too big

and my eyes too dry

i pray for the worth that transcends me and my failures and frivolities

resulting in a worth that lasts much longer than a tear drop separating into pieces as it hits the unforgiving floor

or a letter

or even unceasing applause

rather a lifetime of virtue, wisdom, and knowledge

or whatever the ancients were getting at

for us humans who are so wise

we certainly are foolish

angles of skin pulled against fabric of the gods

clothe me with something else

i will not ask for anything but

help

recognize these waves.

drop the beats that circle me like angry birds that crave the morning snow that sticks to thin blood on the safe pavement still scares me like stairs irresponsibility does not suit me so do not pretend that i am any other color and these times are high so high so high that chopping wheels cannot reach our lofty heights so high they suffocate screeching we all drop only to catch ourselves laughing at the angry birds and the blood on the pavement as we realize we skipped the stairs

leftover.

your shadow brushed my knee

nothing higher, nothing lower

icons of the past left in

drawers rolling closed

my fingers,

un-webbed

let me swim,

reach, feel

for the present

as your wandering eyes

find my convenience for the last time

lessons learned

good forgotten

till our bodies

are left to soften

deliver your praise

although unearned

and i will drop you

soft and stern

we can't let this moment pass us by.

just a person stumbles into bed, with hopes of warmth and agreement. waiting for the world to fall into place, like a marble in a children's toy from long ago. holding hands that are meant to be held, and knowing that someday she will land like a bird after a long journey. a perfect fit.

one day i will reach the age when i don't have to look up anymore.

[no intention of rushing]

[[i promise]]

bellisima.

finds herself losing faces behind a big careless smile,

tucking away into folds of comfort and promises of the next year

and the next

and the one after that

loses the point of snowfall,

wishing that ice would not melt with a candle

dyeing the world in her own color

not letting it fade when others change her shade

revels in the alignment of paper

in order to feel some control that has become the chance of her life

sounding like a doubter

but exploring the beyond like it is for certain

bellisima

she loves the way life unfolds, unravels

but is never certain of the rules that it follows

on the brink of losing it,

until she realizes she already has