“what are you thinking?” my mother
used to ask me, whenever
we were alone and I was quiet
for more than ten minutes. I can
never remember now what I
actually was thinking, because
as soon as she said it, my mind
always went blank, wiped clean
like a blackboard, like a kill switch
on a computer, erasing all
the data instantly, just
so I could say “nothing”
and have it be true
in that moment, so that
part of me could believe it,
because that’s the only way
people with glass faces
can tell lies.

Continue reading telepathy

how you really feel

him: we’re not dating.
me: tell
me how you really feel.
him: I don’t like you
that way.
me: tell me
how you really feel.
him: you’ll thank me
for this later.
me: tell me how
you really feel.
him: I’m not over
my ex.
me: tell me how you
really feel.
him: you’re boy crazy.
me: tell me how you really
him: I don’t miss you, I
don’t need you, I don’t
love you.
me: okay you can stop
telling me now.

this weather

this awful weather, I know it.
cold and soon to be
hot again, I hope. that
kind of thing makes
everyone sick. it’s
unseasonable, unreasonable
and all-around bs.

I myself
have been a bit sniffly lately
and not just because
of all the crying I did the
day before yesterday
when I was so very
lost and couldn’t find
my bearings. I had to have
therapy a whole day early
because I was extremely
anxious and didn’t know
what to do with myself.

I feel better now, though
physically worse. I’ll take
a cold any day over bad
weather in my head. sometimes
the spirit is willing but the body
is oh so weak. these fragile
human vessels that house
our souls sometimes succumb
to a passing storm or a bug
too tiny to see. such a small thing
to bring us down so low.

cherry bomb girl

some lady outside Sidewalk
just called me the cherry bomb girl,
and I’m not sure what that means
other than an obvious reference
to the bomber jacket I am wearing
covered with red cherries and green leaves,
white flowers with brown stems.
I presume a cherry bomb girl
is half pinup girl, half rockabilly.
she smokes cigarettes and wears Doc
Martens, and I’m halfway
there but to be honest
I don’t quite have the eye makeup,
let alone the spoons
to fully pull her off

Continue reading cherry bomb girl


for two years
he lived in my heart, I thought of him
constantly, he took
over my mind and could
have had me
many times over, if he
wanted to. and yet
we fought all the time,
for every positive
interaction there must have been
at least three negative
ones. (and no, I’m not
counting the times
where I thought he
was being distant
and it turned out it
had nothing to do
with me. I asked, you see,
and found out what was really
going on.) no, I’m talking
actual, deliberate cruelty
inflicted from one to the other,
often both. he was usually
full blackout drunk
and didn’t always remember
what he had said and done.
I, on the other hand,
remember every bitter detail, much
to the detriment
of my mental health.

I cast him out
of my heart
like the demon he was
three times. in magic,
doing something three times
means something, shows you
mean it, makes it stick.
I can only hope
that this time,
the third time
is the charm.

my ring

I’ve been wearing this
ruby ring a lot lately. not
that you’ve asked,
but I’ll tell you why.
it reminds me
of an engagement ring, but
it was not given
to me by a man.
my mother bought it for me
when I was 17 and
we were visiting Thailand.
gems are cheaper
there. (probably bought
with the blood of men
digging them from the ground,
but this was 1990 and no one knew
about blood diamonds back then.)

I wear it now
to remind myself
that I don’t need a man
to be happy. I am married
to myself.

so if you see me
wearing this ring, know
that I’m trying
to be strong.