Hallelujah

So let them 
scream their hallelujahs 
to an unchanging god: 
shout, 
dance, 
cry out 
in ecstasy- 
we have always been 
a quieter sort of disciple. 
Whispered prayers 
reach just as high 
as the smoke of sacrifice, 
and our sacred silence 
is louder 
than their songs. 

Aches

I was mistaken:
A broken heart is not safe,
So much more ache waits.

Cactii Don’t Have Shoulders to Cry On

You will want 

to cry aloud 

for your mistakes, 

to scream your sorrow 

at the still dark sun, 

but the world doesn’t need 

any more of that sound. 

Listen, can’t you hear the 

cacophony? 

But if you must, 

when your lips are 

bloodied from the biting, 

and you can no longer 

swallow the sting, 

go by yourself 

into the desert. 

Find the place where 

rocks and water weave 

across the barren soil, 

and drip with despair 

until you are dry once more. 

Baited

So maybe I am the fish 
who knew the hook 
would bite her- 
but how else 
could I ever see 
the stars? 

Things That Will Happen When You Suddenly Live Alone

1. You will make too much coffee. 

The pot that once held 

too little for you both 

will be almost full 

as it stares back at you, 

black and cold. 

You will try to reheat it, 

coax warmth into your cup, 

into your smile, 

into your heart...

you will fail. 

2. The bed will suddenly feel taller, 

like you are balancing 

pillows on tight rope, 

like the crowd is waiting 

for you to fall- 

you must not fall- 

—-you will fall. 

Sleep will hide from you 

until you allow yourself 

to stop looking.  

Get up, 

drink the cold coffee, 

read a book. 

You will fall asleep 

in the chair that is meant 

to hold one. 

3. You will stop eating. 

Dinner time 

will lose it’s magic, 

and the dishes 

will not be clean 

the next time you look 

in the cupboards. 

Tomatoes will rot and 

oranges will grow hard, 

because there are not 

enough mouths to fill 

with good things. 

You cannot fill yourself 

with good things, 

so you will stop trying 

altogether.

4. People will ask how you are. 

You will paint a smile 

on your aching face, 

will chirp “fine” 

will lie, “great” 

will say “hanging in there,” 

will stain the darkest night 

a sunny yellow 

and pretend that 

you are not broken. 

You will forbid yourself to cry...
You will cry. 

5. You will leak 

all of your sorrow 

onto your pillow, 

your sleeve, 

your son’s favorite stuffed bear. 

Your head will fog 

with unshed precipitation, 

and your voice will grow 

deep and rough, 

until you do not recognize it.
You will stop talking
altogether.
Words
take too much effort
and there is no one
to hear you anyway 

6. You will survive. 

You will not know how 

it happens, 

or when, 

but some morning, 

you will drink 

all the coffee. 

You will bake more bread. 

You will sleep. 

You will smile.
You will sing.

You’ll survive. 

Post-Mortem

When I begged you 

to see a doctor, 

said the darkness 

would turn even 

your brightest colors 

black, 

you promised 

you were 

fine. 

You were a 

man in progress, 

in the process of 

hardening 

into a survivor. 

And now that 

you have gone, 

we are left. 

I can feel my edges 

hardening. 

Achy-Breaky

Is there a name for it?
This constant ache?
This hole where Heart should beat?

Last Rites

By the time they arrived 
you were almost gone. 
The bleeding had staunched, 
but you had lost too much already: 
the red of a million sunrises, 
rosebuds, 
cold ears, 
crisp apples, 
your favorite truck, 
suddenly black and still. 
They said goodbye 
before they greeted you, 
the words an apology 
you couldn’t hear, 
a prayer that would remain 
unanswered. 
They were ushered 
out the door, 
to the plastic chair soldiers 
standing at attention. 

Sabotage

My darling, 
do not reach out 
for the man 
who kissed you 
like a battlefield. 
He will not reach back, 
will not catch you 
when you trip 
over his knotted words, 
will not hold your hand 
as you fumble 
in the darkness, 
crying out 
for your lost voice. 
Do not allow 
your eyes 
to bring forth 
oceans for him
when he refused 
to share even
his umbrella. 
I know, darling, 
that you believe 
love 
must be hard-won, 
that it cannot be true 
without a few bruises, 
but I promise you, 
Love 
is not supposed to taste 
like sabotage. 
It is not supposed to feel 
like a prison cell. 

Batteries

This morning, 

the mechanical car 

refused to drive. 

I told him 

it was okay, 

the batteries just died. 

A trip to the pantry, 

a few turns of the screws

the lights flash again 

and I wonder 

what lessons 

I am teaching him. 

Death is not impermanent, 

there is no reset button, 

no charger that brings us back 

from beyond. 

Yesterday, 

we ate dinner 

and argued over who 

would wash the dishes. 

Tomorrow, 

you may be stolen 

too soon from my arms. 

Why do we wait? 

Why do we live 

like tomorrow is a promise? 

We know better. 

1//2

I 

won’t try 

to 

fix you, 

Love. 

All I 

want 

is to 

be 

the quiet 

place 

where you 

gather 

your strength 

and 

realize, you 

have 

never been 

broken

at all.

Produce Haiku

Productivity

means very little, darling, 

without quality. 

Ghostwriter

I am so tired

of waking 

to the blank canvas 

of morning

and realizing 

it will only be 

painted 

with the ghost 

of you. 

Second Draft Poem: Kentucky Heartbreak Shuffle

Happiness 
is a bag 
too heavy for 
my bird bones, 
and every love letter 
you have written 
is folded in the 
back pocket 
of every pair of 
jeans I wear. 
I am 
bathing suit daydreams 
and nightmare moons. 
It is always 
and never 
the right time. 
I plucked the 
secret of your love 
from a daisy, 
but the bridge 
I meant to burn 
is brick. 

Dry

My darling, 
let me walk 
with you, 
and when 
it rains, 
I will hold 
my umbrella 
over you. 
Drowning 
in my love 
for you, 
you will stay 
dry. 

Liberty (or Death)

Freedom 

is just another word 

for loneliness, 

for cold sheets 

and empty hands, 

and only one mug 

with steam rising from it 

each morning. 

Freedom 

is just another word 

for loneliness, 

for silence too heavy 

and houses too big, 

and nobody 

to mirror your smiles 

to you. 

Freedom 

is just another word 

for loneliness, 

and 

aren’t we 

the land of the free? 

How brave we are 

to embrace it. 

Sight

Lend me your eyes, Love,
I want to see the world new.
Let me see it all.

Regenesis

Maybe you too 

have believed the lie, 

that you are made 

new 

every seven years. 

That a year of jubilee 

finds a new creation, 

and nothing of your 

former self 

remains. 

You should know 

better, beloved. 

Some things are 

stronger than 

science. 

This heart, 

constant and steady, 

has always held 

you. 

These eyes 

have always seen 

only you. 

Ticker Tape Tells

Compress your life 

into sentences, Love. 

Tell me
of thousands of coffee moons
rising on newspaper skies; 

tell me 
how you imagine 

the first sacred sip is me, 

heating you from the inside. 

Tell me 
I am as precious 

to you as your first mug, 

indispensable and
strong. 

Tell me
how the morning breeze
plays with your hair, 

how it makes everything
sharper, 

even the fringe of your
eyelashes, 

how even breathing
becomes harder 

in the absence of
warmth. 

Tell me
that I have always been 

so warm, Love. 

Squeeze your days 

into paragraphs. 

Tell me
of billboards you pass, 

the cars that swim 

in the same current, 

the birds that watch you 

from telephone poles and 

the steady cows 

who avoid your gaze. 

Tell me
that every road you drive 

brings you closer to
me. 

Give me your life 

in soundbites, darling. 

Tell me 
of the door 

that you can never lock, 

of the hum of a washing 
machine 

that refuses to wash away 

thoughts of me, 

of the closet full 

of graffitied wishes 

for a life you’ve yet to 
live. 

Tell me 
something, 

I will never 
stop 
listening. 

(Give and) Take

Take your tenderness 

and bury it deep, 

for now is the time 

your fire is needed. 

Take your boldness, 

your coffee-black nerves, 

take your bravery, 

your fearless leaps 

into dark waters, 

your white-knuckle fists 

against the storms of uncertainty, 

take your wild eyes 

and your knowing stare, 

and shake your head 

with smirking lips 

at all you were afraid to be. 

(Listen) Close

Your name 

was meant 

to be whispered,

so darling, 

do not wander 

too far. 

Stay 

close enough 

to hear me call you;

I may not speak 

at all.