Ashley 8/30

STRANDS OF MEAT.

Emma, 8/30

All words in this poem can be found in the song “Lost in the Light” by Bahamas

help me,

I’m just

bones now.

even

my lovers,

so lost, all

rattled things

hold my own

night, take

my light.

what thrill. 

I too held words

before this.

Emma, 7/30

under 

the vines

a catch 

of the light, 

a garden

below us

and we grow,

slowly,

while all things

become

still

Emma, 6/30

left on clark, right on spring, brackett, dow, congress.

repeat every sunday, the familiarity of the west end

sound more like our strangest hymns. you’re right-

the coffee here isn’t as good. there is no community like ours,

no anarcho-poet vegan pancakes. new sleepy hands,

the church I’ve replaced you with. how sincerely you wished

I would make music of you, you gentle yet hungry child. 

you constant flicker, you fire-mouth. you must have known

our neverland wouldn’t last- every fool grows up eventually.

and weren’t we something like that? half-wit, half-lit

fireflies, circling each other’s sweetness in the night?

Emma, 5/30

the sun had come down

and vermont begun

to paint itself with night.

in the genesis of moonlight

I relearned the language

of your hands

Emma, 4/30

The eternity between us:

an interstate, the horizon

just out of reach; the possibility

we needed setting. All we could 

do was watch. I was never brave

enough: never bright enough

to know you the way light does.

I wonder what you thought of me:

coward or sunset, crook 

or ever-burning city. Lovable

in a way you could never learn,

a light that flickers in your hometown

while you write me from colorado.

While you miss me, I hope.

Ashley 7/30-

Not sure when the sky changed
it may have always been this way.
A little bird keeps telling me
it has always been this way.
I've just been walking around
with my nose on the ground
searching for a clue.
They're in the air
they've always been in the air.
You can feel them as they hit your skin
and crawl into your pores.
Seeping. Deeper. Deeper.
As they mingle in the strands of meat
between outside and inside-
you know. You've always known.
You can feel them now in your bones.
With all of the other clues
that you had ignored all year.

Ashley 6/30-

6/30

An unexpected wave from behind-
Grabbed me by the ribs
sinking it's teeth into all of my soft parts.
Ankles and head meet in a tizzy,
Gasping in a salt water sea.
Leaking from every hole in my face-
Frustration, Heartbreak, Disappointment
Mistrust, Confusion, Loneliness.

It was a turbulent open sea,
Full of picket fence, craftsman style home, bungalow.
Warm beach vacations-
Lovely dinners, amazing friendship.
Birthday adventures, sexual chemistry...
Secrets, discomfort, lies.
Lies, fear, imaginary shackles, lack of faith.
Emptiness just for the sake of familiarity-
Out of habit.

You are not in control
I was not in control
There needs to be faith-
all that is around you is turbulent
as the sea is a flighty temptress.
You can invest everything you have
into steering that ship,
But she makes the calls.

I know now that it is best not to attempt
to sail your ship directly into a storm.
Bad call.
One's love of the sea need not overpower
the inherent need for survival.
Once she calms she brings all you need-
Appreciation, Respect, Love
Trust, Fulfillment, Promise.
There is nothing wrong with being on shore.
There are good times and bad times
to pursue the sea.

It was a bad time, for both of us.
I wish you had just made a call sooner,
I wish I had accepted it sooner
I could have avoided drowning.

Ashley 5/30

One Page. 

Creative. Hardworking. Energetic. 

That's a lie. 

Sluggish at times. 

Sluggish when unmotivated. 

Needing encouragement. 

Independent to a fault. 

Won't ask for help. 

Too proud. 

"Bossy"

Self-motivated worker.

Not motivated to do laundry. 

Ever. 

Lover of 80's pop music and hair bands. 

Not Lazy, unmotivated. 

Not at all lacking direction. 

Not motivated. 

Removing the unnecessary. 

Too much clutter. 

Working to reduce clutter. 

Suffocated by clutter. 

Suffocated by loneliness. 

Lonely. Heartbroken. Enough. 

Unfulfilled with day to day. 

Looking for that element. 

Harvesting a spark. 

Full of Promise. 

Worrier, Anxiety, Promise. 

More self actualized than most. 

Overwhelmed. Exhausted. 

Running the show. 

It's all just a show. 

Overwhelmed. 

Full of Promise. 

Ashley 4/30

Ashley 3/30

How long will you sit?
Now is the time to go- move. 
Today, you do you. 

Ashley 2/30

He told me my hygiene is poor.
Instant reaction: Fuck. You.
It's an awful thing to say to someone
that is practically a stranger.
Seeing someone twice a year
doesn't make you "friends."

He tried to play it cool,
telling me that some serious care
would make it all go away.

I teared up, trying desperately
to tilt my head to the side
as I laid back in that steril room.
Maybe it will leak out of the corner
and he
      Won't.
           Even.
                Notice.
I don't think he did.

Of course I don't want to lose them.
I've had them my entire life.
He told me that it was like taking
a tiny rubber band and
"thwacking" them repeatedly.
"Be nice to yourself," he said.

It's always been my barometer.
That and how tidy my room is.
They fall to the way side
when things are hard.

Sometimes, it's difficult
to make these things a priority.

Ashley 1/30

I feel it in my bones.
Like all else, it comes in the night
Exploding- burning.

Direct contact feels harmful
I feel my whole body, head first
                                               slipping.

Hiding in the cushions,
gone until the next cleaning
or a good flossing.

Crumpled paper soldier,
tossed aside, assuming
this is what "normal" feels like.

Every cell tingles,
the atoms make themselves known.
The entire planet is aware
the grief is universal.

Breakable bones
Unknown parts of ourselves
Disheveled and feeling
purely human.

2/30 Sarah

Grow.
Growth.
Growing.
Develop, advance, age.

These pains, they anger the hunger in the belly of my shins.
As I get older,
I notice the curves of my thighs a little more.
I start to envy the young spring flowers.

Full blood orange moon,
I anticipated hysteria. Yet nothing was brought except -

External quiet.
I want nothing to do with my mouth.
I want not yet to speak.
I want to say nothing, let you do all the talking.

I'll let you do it
and you let me go through my aging pains.
Let me be quiet and hold this in my heart & song.
Hold it in my stomach song,
my aging pains they sing to me
they sing to me oh -

Sarah 1/30

Me/You

ME:

My legs are tired from all the standing still,

and my lungs they hurt from exalting your praises. 

I repeat the myth created,

does it do me any good?

Do we believe the things we tell each other?

The things we tell ourselves?

How you are the field,

I am the woman pushing away the corn stalks.

Plucking golden cones -

shaving all the gold

the charm.

Singing. Yelling. Screaming your praises.

The work. Oh the work.

How I've worked. 

How I've worked your praises into the earth.

How I've folded everything in. Turned it in.

What do I expect?

YOU:

Are terrifying.

The one good thing to come into my life.

Like a sale shelf,

I am the housewife on the sidewalk looking in.

I cannot turn away.

I am drawn in.

Bring me good fortune.

Bring me fame.

Bring me a happy home.

Master of the shop, you keep me here. 

Although I will return, I ask if your wares will come with me. 

Have I saved enough? Have I worked hard enough to take you home? 

Sarah 6/30

Practicing Kindness

Hesitant small creature,
I am bent into myself.
A kind, unassuming animal.
We both stare at the bumblebee.
In the next room,
I waited.

I know that familiar hello.
The hello not meant for me.
The hello you great someone else with.
That was once mine.
Thanks for calling ahead, for giving notice.
Thanks for the last night. Moving on, though -

To tell myself that I will not assume.
Hold good graces.

To tell yourself that this person is in love with you,
hold good graces.

When you value your life,
you can walk heavy footed.
Oh but how my feet are tender at the moment. Searching wildly for the same old cracks.

But the road has been paved with good intentions,
hold good graces.

Emma, 3/30

swing set by the pool.

boy next door, young love.

holding hands in secret.

fourth grade, school bus.

new kid from texas. eyes

lock, flushed cheeks.

christmas party, candy cane white 

hot chocolate. you’re the only one

I wanted to hear sing.

amusement park. red hair

reflects sunshine. perfect angle.

calloused hands, a digression.

my hair was long when we first met, 

main street, harmony. and the bible 

didn’t mention us, not even once.

drove me home from the diner

after the shows. let it bloom,

slow, yet untamed. still wild.

whiskey on the balcony. a reach 

for my hand. came closer.

the moon turned green.

Emma, 2/30

the bathroom of the clubhouse

only accessible by key. blue tile, clorox,

candy-stripe dress: a vignette. almost sixteen,

hair caught between my back and blue

and the baby blue. I don’t remember

the cum on my stomach but I know

it was there. I remember the frame

of the mirror, now: static reflection. 

show me when I became aware

that the wretch was more than a wretch.

show me when I noticed the chains,

when I became them, when we were one

in the same. show me the right blood

on the floor, the bad blood, the red hair,

the red hands. give me the name

of the god who caused this, whichever one

heard the stripling give up his will

and sent me his hands, rivets

by definition. answer me, damn it.

I know you can hear me.

Emma, 1/30

it felt exactly as hollywood had led me 

to believe: the simultaneous horror

and disbelief, a cosmic joke nearby, lying 

in wait. Dear Creative Monstrosity, 

if you wanted to know if I would pray 

to you while swallowing death, 

we now have our answer. how ironic

that some god would speak through

such unsteady hands, an amateur puppeteer

dancing a whittled marionette. tell me,

what did you do when I became a real girl?

when my wooden jaw learned 

to scream?