the woman sighs
roast in the oven
sipping wine

apple pie on
the stovetop
she puts her feet up

slow dance
the gazes of the teachers
at hand placements

work truck
the boy and his pup
peek over the dusty dashboard

bad news
daughter buries her face
into dad’s shoulder

she fixes her hair
the way
he likes it

frozen dusk
the little line leader
reaches for my hand

under the blanket
searching
for a footsie partner

winter chill
wishing I had someone
to share my warmth with

baby talk
I think she said,
“dad”

breeze on a cool day
our hands interlock
as we stroll through the field

wednesday To Do’s
a smile
for each box checked

mama’s dinner
Kraft mac and cheese
with hot dogs on the side

my fingers glide
into the gaps between his
naturally

her laugh
cuts through the crowd
mom never misses opening night

lights out
we exchange stories
on the worn leather couch

small town gas station
buying a donut
so I can use the bathroom

school bus
cracking the window
to hear church bells

buying a new dress
trying to think of
an occasion to wear it

senior prom
only member of the group
without a date

ordering dinner—
getting my order
mansplained to me

snow in the forecast
YAAAAAY
amid a chorus of boos

church bells
snowflakes fall
on the cobblestones

I walk faster
               the argument
               pounding in my ears

corner bakery
red daisies
in the window-box

swallowing words
i push back my
nail beds

snapchat from my dad
i drop everything
to respond

The DAR
oh wait
we are immigrants

ringpop
playground proposal
forever and ever

my sister’s step
quickens
sundown

DNA
Kendrick Lamar
my black anthem

motherly advice
never leave without
pepper spray

police siren
possible death sentence
16 year old boy

a B Cup
telling me
im not a woman

she grabs my face
where’s        my
        pepper      spray

ignorant girl
grandpa speaks over me
my words          silenced

nighttime whisper
his daughter asks
for one more story

tea time conversation
it stopped steaming
long ago

winter break from college
my mom asks where
I'm going out

blanket of snow
somewhere beneath
my brother’s tonka truck

first Christmas
his tie
slightly crooked

"i just don't want
to dance . . ."
with him

ancient oven
half the batch burnt
the way Dad likes it

forehead wrinkle
I found a new place
to give a kiss

morning appointment
on the
toilet seat

7th birthday
mom sends out
the Hello Kitty invites

grandma's necklace
I feel like
she's here, with me

he rubs my head
I close my eyes
and fall asl . . .

midnight
my room bathed in
the moon’s silvery glow

old bookshelf
favorites easy to pick
from the collection

dancing in the kitchen
he twirls me
to Christmas music

grandma pours
two cups of coffee
grandpa sits reading the news

my childhood
in a box
VHS tapes

Christmas Eve
mama cleaning up
after us

palm itching
for someone
to hold it

pick up
the phone
no notifications

coffee shop
the furnace groans to life
as the first snow falls

driving fast
going nowhere
as the snow falls

crossing the street
the children line up
like little ducklings

HOMERUN!
dad lifts the boy
to catch the ball

soft footsteps
brown pigtails
peek into the room

               as
puddle spl    hing
I'm a kid
again

arms link
          a barrier
                   you cannot
                        cross

she looks down
at her finger and smiles
newly engaged

summer lunch
eating on the patio
with dad

clenched fists
counting the steps
until I’m safe

after the Kavanaugh hearing
I tell my therapist
about the rape

even when we kiss
empty space
between us

train horn
I groan and roll
to the other side

wearing it
when I met you
my lucky ring

falling soft asleep
dreaming of
Will you Marry me

abandoned bicycle
a dragonfly rests
on handlebars

showing mom
my hummingbird ribbon
there are no words

needle and thread—
daddy sews up
her teddy bear

let’s put on
a movie
we won’t watch

airplane lights
twinkling
in her eyes

texting 
her crush
across the room

coffee table
turned into
her stage

not even remembering
the reason I said
I hate you

marijuana gummies
. . . will these
           do the trick?

my perfect body performing
tasks she’ll never do again

cherry popsicles
grandma and grandpa
compare red tongues

for good luck
mom’s pearl bracelet
on my wrist

ladies first
he lets me cut in the lunch line
to feel like a gentleman

quiet sorority house
no one is awake

but me

stage 4
assisted breathing
dying last wish
portillos

  her apple
shines by the
  late   night
      lamp

half-eaten bagel
the trashcan a treasure box
to the homeless man

keys in fingers
hair in bun
the walk home

mother's earrings
bring out her eyes
in mine

I kiss his cheek
to see if he is awake . . .
                           a grin

you’re gonna need a bat
to keep away the boys
once you lose weight

dad laughs
at Trump’s locker room talk
my heart sinks

insomnia
i hum
like mom used to

rainy day—
i soak biscuits
in green tea

my counselor
tells me
"you look really tired"

berated six year old
the police need to see your hands
always

Heart of the Ocean
he buys her silence
token by token

young women
told
good thing you’re pretty

conceal and carry permit
means nothing
40 year old black death

7th grade
male friends
not so nice anymore

customer service rep
told
you should smile more

winter journaling
too many pages about
loneliness

the rusty pump action
takes down another pheasant
. . . it has aged well

after the proposal
the engagement ring
too small

after the rape
she whispers "I love you".
          I don't say it back.

new york subway
a hand on my ass
that doesn’t belong

dairy farm
the morning sunrise
warms the farmer’s back

rusty flatbed
poking out of the window
a wet nose

Thanksgiving morning—
hands interlocked
Grandfather’s blessing

crystal locket
cherished by the child
who never met her mom

crying in the shower
this way
i won’t feel my tears

grandpa's eyeglasses
too big
too cute

holding his hand . . .
she takes a breath,
and lets go

daddy’s shoulders
he says i’m the tallest girl
in the world

wet hair
she stands tall
in the pouring rain

bending backwards
she whispers
in her lover's ear

crowded bus stop
she counts
gray hairs

autumn breeze
all the words left
unsaid

shot after shot after shot
the room starts spinning
someone please save me

teaching my daughter
how to “kick him where it counts”
only 8-years-old

she’s gone
for good
next song on my playlist

new job
changing her dress out
for pants

daisies bloom
on the side of
the dirt road

harry potter and the goblet of fire
binding held together
by tape

black dress
just short enough
for mom to worry

sidewalk chalk art
washed away
summer thunderstorm

Eve’s curse
will i really suffer
forever?

merry-go-round
i spin and spin and spin
giggles with daddy

that song from years ago
when you and i
were still friends

Mom, I’m sorry
for yelling at you
when I was thirteen

lazy sunday
going to the park
with the kids

Instagram feed
my middle school best friend
pregnant

cleaning out closet
the memory of that skirt
from eighth grade

first real bra
hoping no one will notice
all the boys stare

seconds pass
her diagnosis
stops time

2 years later
still wearing your
heart shaped locket

hair loss
but wigs don’t cover
weight loss

mammogram
I always cross
my fingers

first snow
grandma refuses
chemo treatment

lonesome country road
crossing the pavement
a coyote

harsh winter air
I chew on
my chapped lips

election day
she gets “feminist”
tattooed on her wrist

planned parenthood
I go for
a breast cancer screening

with each cat call
her armor
thickens

two years without you
I still dial your number
after a fight with mom

after the harvest
the old farmer watches the sunset
from his rocking chair

ring around the rosie
with my little cousin
this one’s for me

my head on your chest
glowing
you tell me I’m the one

before sending the text—
I delete the
“sorry to bother you”