the neighbor's cat
soon to be
my cat

morning—
i dress myself
in your clothes

big truck
sundress
red

winter nights
the empty blanket
smells of him

frisbee on the field
missing every throw
not at my heart

he winks at her
she texts
someone else

sweating my ass off
to do nothing
on a beach

playing footsie
she wonders
if he knows

late night studying
my roommate decides
to sing in the shower

wolf whistle
snapping around
her eyes scarier than Medusa

she loves her children
like she wished her parents
loved her

threads pulling
her favorite sweater
stained again

are we getting ice cream?
is that even a question?
let's go

scary storm
i guess
i'll sleep on the futon

skips
the sidewalk ends
rock falls from her hand

late night
we sneak to the train tracks
no one will see

miles from the other side,
        the bridge
               she happily burned

patiently waiting
at the back door
to go potty

premature flowers
dead
the cold of February

lying on the
trampoline
mapping out our future

the family walks
through the rain
but still no dog

retard—
the only word
that makes me cringe

dirty old house
still find a way
to have fun

scarlet hair
matches the color
of her nosebleed

upon the arrival
the dog ran
past the guests

pool finally filled
waiting
while kids play inside

you said his name
my heart stopped
with hers

matching bruises
never looked so good
                       on us

watching award shows
in sweats
under-dressed

a locket
hangs from her neck
cold and hard

weather channel
thunderstorms all week
spring break.

booked hotel
at Daytona Beach
biker week. . . .

voices behind closed doors
an offender
screams at the wall

Louisiana man
stumbles away
grasping broken beads

reunion
I never liked you
when you're drunk

calling my mom
after a long day
she always knows what to say

heavy downpour
my mom's shoes
soaked on the deck

on a blanket
with a picnic basket
such a pure moment

pillow print
engraving
my face

waiting all month
for the one day
he comes home

something about
quiet, gentle rain
puts me right to sleep

scribbled in ink
today's errands
on my left arm

beer bubbles
over the rim
after a long day

scary movie
don't go . . .
in the closet.

Sunday evening
I wonder
what I did to lose you

alone with the trees
nature seems to
speak only to me

find someone who
will make ugly faces
with you

she twirls her hair
he asks a question
first “date”

forgiveness
like a Venus flytrap
slowly opening

fixing her necklace
she takes a deep breath   nods
at the accompanist

it's always there
creeps through the cracks in the door
his best friend—depression