Airborne

turned around

   facing

the other

way

      moving

in some

direction

       i

press on

    with

arrows pointing

       towards

me

run through

     the vines

that     once

    tripped me

fly  over

    my

grandmother’s

    grave

and

    mother’s

face

tumble

and tuck

become

one

with

rock

with

earth

cartwheel

down

ex lovers’

     spines

until

i no longer

see

    the
green

of

vines

 

 

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Bright Blue 

follow my
lines
curve of my
hips

thin gold silver
light
bounces off
thighs

glitter sheen
sparkle
curve of your
lips

swimming over
underneath
waves in your
eyes

flesh on flesh
feel of
your shoulders
against mine

cut into me
like the sun
through the
blinds

at dawn
you are cool
as morning
dew

hands float
down my
back
bone

lips on my
neck
color of
you

bright bright blue

leave me
at sunrise
but never
alone

bright blue

The Painter

infinite stretch
I reach
 rub green through   Nature
trees on my
    fingertips
    color of our lungs
on rainy afternoons
    a lush world
blooms slow
like a    Lotus
     half-open
I wait
     planet of mud
 hands     outstretched
      to the blue
it pours
               leaves
are greener
     lost nights
I write
     places with
pumpkin purple
     horizons
and
  blood orange
      suns
      smeared ink
I erase
  blood blue
        stains
  on      page
        when the pen
     breaks
   I bleed     out

Washing Up 

my hands    are dirty

I’ve been

digging

hit bone, hit earth,

hit rock, hit bone
You are gone
deep in Earth’s

core,

away from the

center

of my heart
You are dead
my hands

are dirty

I’ve been

cleaning

up your

blood

from the rug
Red finger tips

like my mother’s

 

lipstick
I thought I was her

then there was

you

consuming me

like a

fresh

catch
I bit the bait

but never bled

Stream of Consciousness (unedited) 

everything else blurs away like white static from televisions when i was growing up and september 11th happened and my mother’s face and the gray, so much gray. how did i find her after so many scenes and rituals and deep breaths? i found her standing right across from me at the wake, there were flowers swallowing up the room i was there, reading about nanny and everyone had tears in their eyes because it was so well written and beautiful and i missed her more than ever when i read about my sicilian grandmother, ancestor who shared my blue blue veins. i’ve been writing so much about my mother and the seasons and change, that i think real change is floating away from me before my very eyes and it’s scary, as scary as the gray, as the blue. soon it’ll be mother’s day again this year and i will think about how alive she is on paper but invisible in reality and wonder if she will read my book about her the day it gets published or will it sit on her kitchen counter while she dusts around it? 
you are rainbow, all the dim colors of night and i am still here waiting for woman with red lipped smiles and pointed eyebrows i watched you tweeze them in the mirror so many times behind but you looked away glass and pantyhose sheer black your perm looked at me with wide eyes and its curls puffed up at me almost like a cat who’s ready to attack. i ran away and never came back but you returned night after night in the glass mirror.

Indigo Sun

The sun burns my skin. It is hot, strong, and smells of      fire. I cook, I bake, I let the      rays from the sky shoot into my     pores. I sweat. I burn, I tan. I am     bronze, I am olive, the color of my grandmother, the color of my     ancestors.

I look down at my     blue veins, the same ones which run along my     mother’s thin hands. The blood inside pumps, thick with vengeance, thick with the     sadness that I try to escape from. I fail. It lies     deep in my connective tissue. Indigo lines connect to my heart, connect me to     her.

The sky is aquamarine, with cotton clouds that float     effortlessly. I try to look up, but the sun blinds my eyes. As a     kid, I tried to look at the sun for as long as I could     stand. I was amazed by the fire, the light, the     burn. The heat warmed my     chilled bones.

Somewhere,     Lil is looking up at the same     sky and looking down at these same     veins.

The Pull

never used the room we had
    to grow sunflowers
instead, it rained
    drenching your curls

flattening my face

green filled the space
     but yellow never surfaced
lost in tall grass, i cried
     you rode the leaves into sky

i waited, below

winter came, all was barren
     your breath chilled my bones
i sucked in your air
     like when you vacuumed

like a madman

yet crumbs, hair, lint, and dirt

     remained

i lay on black carpet
     with a blue heart
you stare with black eyes
     whirlwind of dust drags me
all the way back to you

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