Childhood

car ride home
in the backseat
admiring seashells

aunt’s house
the same tea stain
on the tablecloth

washing dishes
five minutes before
mom comes home

despising mom’s dinner
going to bed hungry
mmmmm late night snack

ripples of the creek
Jesus bugs
glide on top of water

keys jingling
at the door
we run to do the dishes

stained glass
a little purple
spilled on mom’s dress

meeting for the first time
my mom
pulls out the picture books

the swing set
covered in high grass
rusty with laughter

mom’s bedroom
a picture with her mom
to watch over her

mary jane’s dragging
underneath the swing set
higher!

she pulls on
her little shoes
“it’s raining!”

hopscotch 
neighborhood friends
at the playground

crisp fall day
we pack up the car
to pick pumpkins

drops of ice cream
melt in the car
all over mom’s seat

stars in the dark
mesmerizing to the eyes,
laying on the trampoline

he keeps me out
past my curfew
grounded.

I jump
from my window
is he worth it?

foggy morning
a trail of paw prints
through the house

12:01
goodnight kiss
past curfew

waves crash
as sand appears
in . . . well, places

sunrise,
sunburn, sunset
repeat

the refrigerator
peppered 
with A+s

streetlights
on
we keep playing

two girls
tying the knot
friendship bracelets

July
a cricket
plays the strings

3 steps
from the street lamp
30 more stars come into view 

a spring breeze
my sister and i
forgive each other

every other finger
not my own,
just as familiar

tears stream down 
while i try again 
5 6 7 8

no.
we cannot
get a dog.

rusty, old swing set
in my backyard
calling my name

he drinks beer
he heard
men drink beer

bonfire reunited
with hometown friends
I read my childhood diary

rewinding 
the music box
to remind me of you

childhood memories
I used to be
fearless

"nap time sucks" 
longing for the naps
i miss

two tier cake
beautifully detailed
name misspelled

basement boxes
mom digs out
my first Halloween costume

the boat rocking back
. . . and forth
like a baby in a mother’s arms

dark morning
the smell of rain
on the bus

the plastic wheels of a tricycle
race to the end of the driveway
time to turn around

Pandemic

“welcome class of 2020”
zoom university
is now open

Illinois is on lock down
but I still can get
drive through coffee?

she sleeps all day
in her dreams
they’re together

shaking with fear
yellow dandelions
on a manicured green

my front camera turns on
I realize this is how I look
to short people

rain falls down
the wet street
“let’s dance” he says

spring cleaning
emptying my closet
and throwing away the past

phone rings
nevermind
a telemarketer

strolling past
heads down
not even a glimpse

pajamas on
constant snacking
quiet house

sitting on the phone
with old friends
staying away from the world

laying in my bed
music playing
lost in time . . .

one pop-
then one crack
you rustle in the sheets, good morning

dressed to impress
a romantic dinner date
“please pull forward to the first window”

a late night
breathless
can you hear me?

now the sun's up
will you stay
or leave

you ask me
is it true
that stars make art too?

netflix
hulu
there’s nothing to watch

our freckles
almost match
beneath the summer sun

sheltered in place
the microwave
is working overtime

returning home
my old home
I breath in the memories

floating away
at sea
. . . my memories of him

windy and cold
standing on top of the Eiffel Tower
is it shaking?

social isolation
my cat
attempts yoga

summer heat
arguing again
she takes off her ring

2 T-shirts
2 shows
that will never happen

gyms closed
I run
on the sidewalk

home early
a list of chores
I shouldn't have to do

I scan your face
daylight reveals
what nighttime hid

pandemic poker
wager: one roll
royal flush

opposite sides of the street
an unfamiliar wave,
alone together

no church
no wedding
what are we doing now?

we walk
together
through the forest avoiding the path

away from home
mum calls
how is the situation up there?

dead leaves
cover the ground
new beginning

protein shakes
at home workouts
Coronavirus

numbness controls me
as i try to figure out
how to keep going

tennis courts
the sound of the train
what did you say?

birthday cake
tastes different
this year

returning from winter break
mice poop
on my pillow

puddle on the floor
          I glance up
                    drip

blank walls
lonely thoughts
where is everyone?

people raving
giggle
it’s fake news

they walk in the street 
with cars
to avoid us

celebrating my 21st
bars closed . . . but
everyone is home

arms folded
quarter full wine glass
staring back at me

my tires
clinging to the brick beneath them
will I come home again?

COVID-19
I can’t take this
all I do is SLEEP

memories fade,
our words cemented
by history

in my mind
a complement becomes an insult
deep breathing exercises

a strong wind blows
sending all our
dreams to Oz

computer desktop
I find an essay
from freshman year

still on the coffee table
my favorite book
years overdue

life
is a game
and only the STRONGEST
                                 U
                                 R
                                 V
                                 I
                                 V
                                 E

                                              f
cold air                                f
b  l  o    w     n              o
steam       i        g

looking out of the

w

i

n

d

o

w
       strangers looking back at me

Colors

steel grey
absorbing blue
her eyes smile

her name was violet
intense to the touch
she slowly burned

the sun catches
his curls
golden brown

iridescent colors
bounce and s p r e a d
behind closed eyelids

sunshine
your touch
#11-0622

mist forms
on the purple mountains
sunrise

a new moon
blacker than
my soul

left foot yellow
right hand red
now twist

swimming in a color
that I cannot name
it is home

colors of the sun
paint the sky
we sit to watch

all of these
colors
still no golden ending

crescent moon
in the navy sky
shooting star

white caps
white claws
white sand

on the white carpet behind her
drops of red
bloody nose

white wall
with pencil marks
measuring our growth

chipped paint,
beneath it
a different time

black and white pages
we relearn
to color outside the lines

her sweatshirt
swirling rainbows
back into the sky

i slowly fade
from black to focus
as i stand up

orange, purple, yellow
for sale
tulips in bundles 

different shades of red
different shades of blue
only one of you

black shirt
. . . black shirt
. . . . . black shirt
oh here’s a grey one!

a splash of
reds blues and greens
garden

blue
   then purple . . .
          and orange . . .
                 and gold . . .
                         sunset