Monthly Archives: June 2022

Ten Poems for a Rainy June

He just wants to help.
Me get out of this depression,
I think is what he means.
Can I make you a checklist?
To get things done?
But I don’t want to offer that because it wouldn’t help in the long-term.
I apologize for being broken.
He says it’s okay.
Will he stay when I’m all better?
Or will he leave when I’m always broken?

I can’t move.
I open the fridge only to eat nothing, because you have to cook everything in there.
So I don’t eat all day.
And get a headache.
I’d rather have a headache than eat celery.
And stew in my sadness.

How can I explain to you what it is to be stuck?
I know to break it into smaller pieces.
I know to do one thing at a time.
I know I’m already late and pushing it.
I’m aware.
I know what to write and who to cite.
The work just isn’t done.
Can’t you see that?
Well, it can just be a draft, it doesn’t have to be perfect.
Done is better than nothing.
And I start crying the second I open the document.
Tomorrow will be better.
And then all the tomorrows turn into mush,
And this was due in November,
And it’s still not done.

I broke the down key on my laptop.
From playing N64 games.
That one thing sounded like I could do it,
It was something I could do,
Wanted to do,
And I was so happy to want to do something,
I went for it.
And I played so much I broke the down-key on my laptop,
And I can’t afford to get it replaced.

My mom bought groceries for a lady from her church.
But not her daughter.
Maybe she hasn’t put it together that I’m not working right now.
That I was told I have to get my other work done before I get a job.
So I have no income.
And can’t afford groceries.
I told her, but maybe she didn’t process.
That she could give me money to buy meat,
Instead of a stranger,
Because it feels more Jesusy that way.

She told us she doesn’t like it when we end a call and she’s not happy.
I told her that is her emotion to handle.
She said that’s why I’m telling you.
I cut off the conversation,
Because I’ve never figured out how to tell my mom to be an adult.

There’s a woman in my program I don’t like.
Just flat out, don’t like.
One of those who doesn’t quite do things for the right reason.
Not in a bad way,
In a way that isn’t okay if you want to be a good person.
And it makes me just a little nervous.
We don’t ask nasty questions of each other in this program.
We don’t offer criticism if it’s not building something.
And I don’t see anyone checking her,
And that makes me nervous.

I keep hearing the same thing in my head,
Well then, maybe you’re not cut out for graduate school.
Each time I miss a deadline and end up lying on the floor
Because I’m so sad I can’t shower.
We value your mental health, they have on a banner in green over the doorway.
But make no accommodations for disabilities in their program timelines.
It’s me.
It’s me that doesn’t fit in here. Who’s not good enough.

They gave me a megaphone,
Did I tell you?
They gave me a megaphone at the rally.
And I got the best compliment I’ve ever gotten in my life,
She said,
I think you were the only one of us who didn’t need that megaphone.

My sinuses ache.
And I’m so sick of brown carpet.
He made us soup, that tastes like bean skins,
He doesn’t keep butter in the refrigerator,
There are beard hairs by the sink,
There are batman mats on the floor,
And I hate this brown carpet,
But other than that,
The living together is going okay.