The Littlest Things

That pile of dirty clothes on the floor

You never bothered to move,


Getting home with a story to tell

But no one to tell it to,


Cooking a meal for one,

And still leaving half – for who?


Remembering to lock the door before bed,

Because now I’m the last to walk through.


Always, it’s the littlest things

Reminding me to miss you.



They say

That couples who live together

For a while


Start to share a microbiome,

That so many of the little pieces

Can be matched up.


Well we’ve been living in and out

Of each other’s pockets

For a while.


The flowers in my mind

Have all grown in your direction,


They cannot be swayed by bad weather,

They reach for you when I wake.


And here is where you will find me –

A cluster of all the little pieces

Threaded through your being,


Our molecules interlocking tighter than our fingers do

Every time we have to say goodnight.

Growing Up On Life Support

I was raised on life support.

I was taught

To paint silence onto my lips

And close my eyes to find a place unseen,


Not living

Never held up

Restrained on the edge of never-knowing.


Growing up on life support

You were always above, counting time

Sliding the planets on a string.


Even on slow burn, excess is poison.

Something lies beneath the skin of the mirror –

A promise that I will trip over all these tracks that you lay down,

Where punitive light leaves the bone exposed.


Time to breathe

Without you blowing air into my mouth,

Time to speak

Without your words falling out,


Time to find my feet

And learn to fall.

It is the good in you that hurts

We were only echoes

In the dark,


But my mind has wrapped itself so many times

Around thoughts of you

That they have all turned to pearls.


You were throwaway words

In a getaway car,


But my heart has woven itself

Into a cage for your thoughts

And without them to fill it, I’m falling apart.


Coal into diamonds

Sand to a pearl

We are taught                   that to be pure

You must bow your head under the weight of the world,


But I would rather be raw

Than a polished product

Of another’s design.


I would rather be alive

Than fossil fuel.


I will always knock on walls


I will fight with all of the grains of me,

Not to harden in the wrong way.

Flammable Heart, Insoluble Soul

We were holding you up, like a shell to our ears

Only hearing the whisperings of an echo of an unreachable thing.


We are all made of something

Easy to mistake sugar, for salt, for grit

Forcing ourselves to dissolve into

Or sink.


You tried, I know you tried

A few times

To slow the sting in the ends of your nerves,


But refined sugar will burn up fast or it will drown;

You didn’t choose to be insoluble in a world of water,


And knitted vessels unravel fast when chased with fire.


Maybe needles make it easier to see yourself through the fog,

Maybe chemicals make it easier to breathe in foreign atmosphere.


You could not pluck at scattered sparks like the rest of us, without going up in smoke.

You could not mix into solution and just be.