night breeze

I feel the breeze through
the bedroom window
on a summer night
as I sit with my baby
at my breast,

it’s the end of summer
and finally the coyotes
have returned.

their song comes through
the open window and in the
odd hours of the early morning
they keep me company
in the quiet and the dark.

The cool comes on quickly and
autumn makes herself known
as the warmth of the day
arrives later and later.

Daylight makes lessons learned
in the dark harder to remember.

There is a feeling of relief
and then dismay
when I realize that
I am still myself,
despite the drastic
changes to my
definition.

Stretch marks,
like any other scar,
are a reminder
of where I’ve been
a record on my body
of each destination
and crash.
A mind may forget
but the body remembers.

It is written on my bones
and this body will find a way.

In a time of crisis
I strain to remember
what coyote taught me
about the lighthearted
nature of the universe-
I say it over and over again
in my head, hoping repetition
will make it stick.

Her mouth curves into a wide grin
around my nipple and
again I am in love.

Recently published in TheΒ Zoomoozophone Review Issue 3

The Build

I stretch myself like a bridge
between fantasy and reality
with not enough of me on either side.

We are too close to both edges.

I only ever wanted to fight with wooden swords
I plead,
reassuring myself,

I am harmless.

But then I think back
on all the harm I’ve caused
and I am less sure.

If everything we build
is made of glass
how can we hope
to keep the world from
breaking down all around us?

Perhaps if we put away
even our wooden swords
and angry words
and eyes,

we can begin to build with wood and stone
and make a thing more lasting
than dread and fire.

Closer

We go into the wilderness
to find a wilder version of ourselves,
to release her out into the world.

We look, trying to see everything
between the curves and the edges,
how it blends together and fades.
We circle back, again and again,
each time getting just a little
closer to the center.

The sounds of the ocean and
the windswept pines belong together.

We desire. We demand. We rage.
We are quiet when we should speak.
We shed layers. Grow. Surrender. Leave behind.
We die and come alive again.

We dance wildly in an empty room
trying to enjoy instead of endure.
We live together on our separate planets.
We arrive again and again.

My body was made for this.