Poetry

I Meet My Future Self and She Asks Me

in
 

What are the pretty places you want to see?/ I step outside and the sun is warm/ there’s a light breeze/ fresh cut grass/ it smells like spring/ the bay of daffodils around the block has emerged from winter’s slumber and I see their pale yellow faces on my walk/ bright sunlight bounces off the snow/ I see it melt into muddy patches of spring/ I see people around me with joy and not with distrust/ I trust myself/ What does it feel like to live in a dream?/  I walk into the kitchen and my grandma brews me chai the way I like it without me asking/ I read poetry outside along the river and the birds sing along/ I peel an orange, the rind and pulp digging into my fingernails/ I grab chalk and write what I’m too scared to say/ in lavender, orange, lemon, lime, ruby red/ I tell my needs without feeling ashamed/ I learn to speak to you without embarrassment for not having the right words/ I become fluent in all the tongues of my past, present, future/ We make marzipan in your blender/ You give me a hug when we say goodnight/ I wake up and don’t think of all the people who have hurt me/ I write them out of the story and let myself breathe/ I decide not to talk to anyone for a day and let myself eat alone in the restaurant/ I eat three meals a day/ I go on a walk and call my friends even if it’s only for ten minutes/ I wake up at dawn and roam all the streets of the neighborhood/ the world slowly bathed in light/ I dance in the street/ my hair falls in loose waves and I feel/ content/ What’s the most beautiful version of your life (realistically)?/ my family gathered around the worn yellow dining room table, talking so much the walls cannot cradle anymore sound/ We share and swap/ clothes, secrets/ I have my friends’ go-to drink saved on my phone/ I go to the cafe and ask where you are so I can drop off the drink I got you just cause/ $5 large tangy mango smoothie/ I look at my body and I’m really proud of what I see/ I celebrate my wins and cry if I want to/ I buy myself flowers/ I light the three-wick soy lavender candle every night for a year/ I wear a chunky wool sweater as I read in the morning sunlight/ We go to the farmer’s market on Saturdays, browse the cheeses, have a picnic/ I find the cheese from Montserrat and don’t throw it out this time/ I lean over your shoulder/ to read off the same book as you/ I write you letters and we develop a language all our own/ I say hi to my neighbors/ We play just dance in your hotel room/ I host a party and feel like there’s a world beyond the four walls on the fourth floor/ the song stuck in my head plays from the speakers and you grab my hand and twirl me/ What feeling would you bottle up and save for later?/ adrenaline kick as the stage lights turn on and everyone cheers/  pink and effervescent/ I reach out to meet you & I hope you like me/ I melt into the tight hug that lingers after we pull away/ You take me out to visit our old high school after I left years ago/ I got on a train and never looked back/ and I end up having a fun time/ You help me shed my shell/ I open the blinds and smell the damp porch moon rain/ gulps of fresh air/ I laugh ‘til my sides hurt/ swinging on the playground/ I find an outfit that makes my eyes sparkle/ I find your favorite band’s poster and your eyes sparkle/ I enter a room and it feels like I’ve been there before/ I learn to feel at home wherever I am/ now/here/ if it isn’t me and you then who else would it be? 


 

Helios is, was, is my friend

in
 
 

Sunlight has the possibility to change everything
Sunlight on my face as I have dew on my ankles
Matching scraped elbows as we zoomed faster than our past toddler selves on the
plastic toddler cars
They never would have known we were old enough to
write about things as deep as oceans
Sunlight on my face as I listen to the birds and wonder if you are ever awake to
see what there is or if you are too entrapped in the aquarium of your mind. I
don’t want a museum ticket pass, touring your mind for my own selfish otherworldly
motives that you don’t try to understand.
But I feel like here drains you and your fishbowl is stopped up.

 
 

a scientific wish for you

in 
You gave me a cup of the ocean
And it tasted like sand between my teeth
because my mouth was dry
You can’t get drunk on water
Because you don’t drink that much
But whenever you put a cup of wine to your lips I put
My hand on the couch
cushion between us
there’s too many molecules between us
The electric blue corduroy of your pants radiates heat
Conduction convection
I bake my hand on the couch
Cushion between us
I take a sip of my cup of water
Your water that tastes like sand
Between my teeth
Sits my tongue
Fat, too big
Loose
Loose tongues might reveal so my mouth is shut
Except for my lips
Which are drinking from the cup
Of water from the ocean from the torrential rains from the runoff from the lakes of your hometown Traced all the way back to your lips
This water molecule from your lips to my lips like a k—
Like my hand on the couch
Cushion between us
Softening the joints between our words it’s easy
To talk to you
The intersection from your ideas to mine
Smoothened by the cartilage in
your arms that encircle
Absorbing the sound waves
Absorbing my hand on the couch
Cushion between us
Absorbing the water droplets slipping from the edges of my cup
As I watch you watch her

Requiem

in
 
 
All souls return here. 
But by dark it was just us,
shadowed, haloed in that strange light,
and I wanted nothing more

than to reach out and touch you.
A pink brushstroke, a lily,
a glimmer of lavender—

you’re on your tiptoes, and

I can’t reach, and

there’s one still moment, where

I’ve yet to breathe. Each light
broke against your skin.

A quiet, hollow thing. A kiss. A
clatter of teeth, a puff of smoke,
the highest precipice of that
fourth-floor building,

our eyes. Your hands. That light.