It shouldn’t be so hard to find homemade croissants in my area. Everyone uses frozen.
I Wrote 10 Poems in 20 Minutes
Must remember how the eyes work
If I move too quickly they’ll fall
Matters for time
How fast I’ll let fall
She’s speaking to me
I’m supposed to say something back
Words chosen one at a time
More careful tired then awake
Less energy needed
I’m using up what no one gave me
On a trip
The older Mom women made us food
No spices on my meats
Not sugar of my custom
It all tastes brown
I’m not hungry for this tasteless food
I pick at it
With fork tongs
Must be why the country’s so fascinating
To people who live with swathes of colors
You can say anything to me
No I can never critique you
It will come back to me
She’ll call me mean
So I say those thoughts are wrong
And yet here they are
She determined to fix his manners
So when they weren’t home
We, I go along,
Sat him down
Told him how to eat
She forced him to care
About how to eat
Because Mom never did it.
It never took.
Yesterday, at the table
Before the brother sat down
She said, I wish I’d taught him better manners
Try so hard not to,
Well think about trying so hard not to
So I can lift myself up by my intentions,
But it happens instantly
And I wonder,
If it happens again
Maybe it’s ok
Those instant snaps.
I wrote on all the tags of my stuffed animals
She called them, named them, christened them
Those that stop me, us
From what you know you need to do.
This is what our parents gave us
Blue eyes and
So much self-doubt that it can be impossible to brush your teeth
She said I don’t like presidents
Stunned, I pushed her
She said, she didn’t like politics.
My self-moving theory
One should know everything I can hold.
Doesn’t apply to her here.
And she seems happy.
I came home with a bag of fast food.
For me. I hadn’t eaten.
So you had enough money to buy yourself food
Not enough to get something for your brother.
He didn’t directly ask me.
He hinted at it.
I was gonna share my mozzarella sticks.
Not good enough
For the heir.
I hold my thoughts back with ropes of will
Saying you can’t say that
They’ll dislike you
Stare bug eyed
And be hurt.
No expressions of what you think is wrong in the house.
For they’ll kick you out.
They can now.
Over the age.
Come back home.
So I don’t say that the comment about that footballer player hitting his kids
Was just this side of racist.
Or that Mom should stop relying on a man to work out technology.
I can’t tell her, you’re bad with money, keep records of what you buy.
I don’t say, that’s not how you cut spaghetti.
No instead I look away.
With all my goodness and will and intelligence and kindness
To say pass the green beans
And keep it all off my face.