well i’ve done this two days running. let’s see how many days in a row I can go. tell me which one is the best.
10 Poems in 20 Minutes
So I met someone who made me laugh
And I laughed.
It came from underneath my heart.
Then I recalled that I laughed.
I remembered what it was to laugh.
I saw in another’s eyes how silly I looked.
So I stopped. And straightened.
And I looked at the pupil in his eyes.
So I would not see his face.
Let my face fall
She will not know what’s beneath.
I give nothing away
I don’t keep it for myself,
I store it.
Those boxes of mine hold it all.
My forehead does not wrinkle.
This way, my face preserved,
Just my brain remains.
I want to get out of my house
For the cleaning lady.
I wasn’t raised to stand still by someone else working.
But, we’re paying them to work.
And now she’s talking to me.
She sees my mess.
Her boy just started school, she says.
I must be polite and listen.
To the woman we leave a check for.
They pay her. So I’m polite.
The only way I’m close with my sister is if I tell her bad about someone else.
Mom did this.
Dad said, “monster” too.
Here take this.
Bond over someone else.
Over someone else’s sadness.
And she takes that.
She keeps it.
Puts in mason jars of glass.
She looks at how close we are on the shelf.
We share this now.
I stayed up so late the sun rose.
I thought that I’d like to see this rise from another.
I don’t want to watch this askance.
I’d glamor at this sun from a hilltop.
With blankets and ants.
Then somebody else would be there.
And I’d stay up.
And hold up.
And stay held up.
Hold me up.
I hold my phone at arms length.
It’s tied to me now and forever.
I can reach it when I sleep. I call to it when I’m awake. And wonder where it’s got to.
I call it by name.
It sticks to my skin.
She said I can’t imagine how I stretched out these sandals so fast.
I just bought these.
Mom those are mine.
Oh, she says.
That makes sense.
She stops at home to change.
She says she didn’t know how they could stretch so fast. She just bought them.
I smiled at her.
Because she says her feet are smaller than mine.
She prides herself on being smaller than her daughter.
The small daughter.
I tell me.
When you get up tomorrow then you’ll be able to do all.
And the same for the next day.
I pulled the car in the drive way past the line.
Past the basketball hoop.
And I opened the door.
Hitting the rusted black metal post.
It’s a 2001 Camry.
It doesn’t mind.
It’s happy someone remembered it’s alive.