Showing posts with label shinya. Show all posts
Showing posts with label shinya. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

knocking one against the other
a rib cage wide
enough for a belly
to whimper
 and want to
see a tall man
sleeping

must be
 feeling appreciated
 on the A train
selling candies
and shaping
your cheeks
   to be like Edison's
I know my eyes
but I can't
softly say
my eyes
and you
fall asleep
with me
I can't help

Sunday, January 19, 2014

I didn't know she died of you
that day we walked her on the beach-
her midnight blue, lycra pantsuit
swishing as her legs cut toward to water.
Off to the side my flannel bottoms stayed
tucked into winter boots.
The moist sand gave way beneath her weight.
The waves lapped at thin ankles,
bulging calves, stretched thighs,
round-melon bottom,
paunch, chest, jawline
hairline.
You must have been back on the rug by then.
That rough skin is always showing
knotted mind and wolf teeth
rotting in a coke jar.
I've walked through your rooms,
always mattresses on floors.
Now toes wedged in hammock strings
and maps on the wall,
all caribbean colors-
but when will you let your nails grow?

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Omega

Years ago I thought I might hide in the pantry
as my children burst through the door
shouting for pudding snacks.
Now, seeing your splotchy face, teeth stretching out for air,
your eyes averting mine,
I know to fear a smothering love
that might take me over,
as I try to peel the stripes from your shirt.



The numbers fleeing your mouth
-small, grimacing-
 are
a forest of fog.
One mind at a time
the titles say,
but you could one day be
a Man in a Meeting
and the gutter punks drink church coffee
outside my apartment door.
Dough folded into notes
your mother passes from the back of the kitchen
grow your hair out long-
shutter the gates tomorrow -
Plump lips,
pillowy ears
passed down to you,
pressed on to you
in some cloud before time.

Sunday, January 12, 2014

East

In the stairwell
with pearls:
your heaving
your lost inventory
your secret taxi routes
your park bench days.
I'd outline
the shape of you
in india ink
if you weren't so paranoid.

Friday, January 10, 2014

Anchor


Are you out there with your
soft hair and hair brush?

We sat by the creek but it was too loud to hear each other.
We walked arm in arm through meadows.
We rolled on carpets, cleaned nightly by men.

I loved your lisp
the last time I saw you, when i didn't know how to be proper.
It made you seem like an old friend, new.


You were a master of: the sloppy bun,
stepping on the backs of my shoes 
as we headed back in from the yard,
reporting to me from the table just feet 
away from where I sat
the purple eyeshadow makes it look like someone punched you.

Now you are a mother
I think.

Before you came over, I made a list 
of reasons why we should be friends
and you thought it was strange 
that my house had no curtains.

Saturday, January 4, 2014

31.1




I fall back in love with you 
when you are choking on miso soup
next to me on the mini couch.

Your head always in your hands
your hands always on your head.
You flip old pages 
and always leave your keys on. 

Friday, January 3, 2014

Landline


Rest the phone on your broken collar bone
and explain to me again why we can't meet
in the streets of Highland. 
I want to see you in your sweatpants,
I want to buy a van with you, to live in,
once we get our driver's license.
I've never met an aries whose hand I couldn't hold,
but your neck's gotten wider as the years pass


and there's the soft sound of soapy water 
shaken in the bottle.


Thursday, January 2, 2014


i would guess your hair is curly
like the letters in your name.

Your love left a code of threat
on your would-be lover's wall.

He rests now against the tree
as the snow gives way beneath my weight.

How did it take so long to realize
my steady feet are planted on the 
strong, soft, freckled shoulders of 
the women who came before me? 

A song whispered from one ear to the next
 and he is still two flights behind.

Wednesday, January 1, 2014


You say the hedgehog kept away the scorpions.
I show you how to bend in the hallway
or I could if I weren't scared of your answer.

A folded piece of paper and
every outcome is no.
You stack cubes into an L and shoot at me then
your arms reach high to drape on mother.
Your back presses hard against the wall,
or into my hand as I push you up the stairs.