bits & pieces

unfinished and unlikely-to-be-finished bit & pieces of poems. iii. is lacking an upside-down question mark and an accent because i can't figure out how to type them in blogger. oops.

iv. is for trevor, who still demands a poem based on that dream.



i.
when i was sixteen, love
was vines creeping over (sweetly) your sleeping form;
your lips pressed closed, but full; the taste of grapefruitlemonbloodorange,
always citris in the back of my throat....

and the thunderstorm was always for us



ii.
no appreciation for pound
at nineteen
and she no longer considers herself a child
fully



iii.
estrella fingertips outstretched
graphite straining staining
aquien esperas?



iv.
all of my happy memories
are of empty houses



v.
light cages,
boxes walls.
what i want is to show you where i sleep;
graying sheets
nightly predicting the coming storm;
and i am standing in front of the mirror
trying to make out my face through the
crayon-scribbles (left by
a not-so-small child)
heart around my bellybutton