Published in Blood & Bourbon Issue #13

I went to write a poem about
how furious you make me
but it’s not the kind of anger
you can channel into art

See the thing is that despite my saying
this time it won’t phase me
it took all of thirty seconds for
that notion to depart

The problem is that I don’t even
know if you’re the problem
or if I’m just building pedestals
that loft you out of reach

of the growing expectations that
have built for sixteen months now
and are rooting even further down
the longer that we speak

I guess that I could be upfront
and tell you it’s exhausting
but I’m not sure how to bring it up
in ways you won’t dismiss

so for now I’ll sit here seething
looking in the wrong direction
knowing full well you can’t fix a problem
you don’t know exists

Published in Blood & Bourbon Issue #13

If I’m being honest
which you know I am

none of us expected
you to walk in

dripping from the rain and
drenched to the skin

ripping off your coat and
looking too thin

sitting on a stool and
closing your eyes

having no idea
we were nearby

ordering a drink and
swirling the glass

nodding at the server
when she walked past

listening to chatter
watching the game

bristling when someone
shouted my name

turning just in time to
rid any doubt

staring in despondence
as I walked out

Published in Blood & Bourbon Issue #13

The juxtaposition
of the electric hum
arcing
inside my body
and the
mundane task
of going to
the post office

Almost enough
to make me laugh
but not out loud
and then that adds
to the neurons
firing like
hummingbird flaps
behind my eyes

Would you like
stamps today?
He quietly asks
in monotones
that surely signify
his own lightning storm
beneath the well-rehearsed
script that drives his day
I don’t know what I want
I tell him without
the slightest hint of shyness
and all the candour
I have in me

And when he looks
up
He really looks up

and meets my eyes
and both our lives
are violently whipping
in the wind of a moment
that shatters the daily mundane

And instead of a chuckle
or half-hearted joke
he pauses
and nods
and looks at my letter
and somehow it seems
like he
gets it
You’ll know
by the time
this arrives
Give yourself time
24 hours is all that it takes
and by then
it’ll all
be alright

And somehow
he was right