Sunday, July 31, 2011

when you are sad, i am sad

fingers of tears creep
down her face, they are greyish
from her mascara.

Friday, July 22, 2011

conservation of energy

sometimes my cat is
so damn lazy she only
half-blinks her eyes, yo.

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

in which my mother teaches me how to mend a quilt

"there's a better way,"
she says, squatting next to her
work. "but it's too hard."

she runs her fingers
along the stitches, reading
them blindly like braille.

"see how this line is
closer and tidier ? more
even ?" i nod, "yeah."

"those others are more
of a hem-stitch." she goes on,
pushing herself up.

"you try the next line."
she laughs while i knot the thread.
the actual sewing

takes me over an
hour, and looks nothing like
her neat marching ants.

"i like how you took
care of this corner." she says
kindly, somehow proud.

i pout a little.
"it's lumpy, like scars." she shakes
her head, "it's sturdy."

Sunday, July 17, 2011

a nightmare

i am a deformed
and lumbering giant stranded
on an endless beach.

there is sand in all
directions, and it is wet,
but without water.

my tongue grows and twists
behind my teeth, gagging me.
i topple over.

Friday, July 8, 2011

a gentleman

a retarded man
offered me his place on the
A train today. "Miss!"

he whoops as i board.
"Miss! Right here!" so excited,
he leaps from his seat.

"Or should I say Mom?!"
he takes my arm, and weaves us
through an upset crowd.

for several stops
we talk about baseball, football,
and coney island.

or rather, he talks,
as i know nothing of these.
soon the train slows and

he gathers his things,
a collection of plastic
bags, books and sundries.

"Boy or girl?" he asks,
his face alive with joy and
interest. "A girl."

"Oh, girls are the best!"
he calls over a frowning
woman as he leaves.