Doctor:  I saw how you tossed my file

across the desk, and all of the papers

spilled out onto the floor. Symbolic.

But you, you were annoyed, that you

had to pick up my pieces and jam them

back in the file, weren’t you? I know.

I heard your annoyed sigh as I walked

away, and you reminded me, again,

that I could find another doctor.


And all I was trying to do was make it

out the door without letting slip

the torrent of tears that began to build

back in your office, when you said,

“You make my job difficult.”  I lost

my words then, so you continued:

“And how I am supposed to work

around this eating disorder thing,

or whatever it is?”  My eyes were

on the floor, but I still saw your look

of disgust at my 100 pound body.


And did I even care how hard it was

on you that I didn’t want to take more pills,

but for God’s sake did I realize I have

a brain tumor, a divorce, no family here,

I am not sleeping or eating….and, you, doctor,

said five prescriptions are what I need.

When I said I just needed time and support,

you said I was difficult and uncooperative.


And I stopped speaking because,

what could I say?  And you called me

noncompliant, that I was tying your hands

behind your back in attempt to gain power,

and my mind whispered……no, i am trying

to survive.  But you didn’t hear, because

you were drawing up a document for me

to sign that said if I kill myself, you are not

legally liable.  I signed it.


so I could leave.  you never looked

at my face. or you might

have known


the damage












pushed around by darkness



been pushed around by darkness

for decades and for days,

nights go on for weeks,

stillness that sits like moss

on granite in the shade

days pass, slowly wait,

knowing no change, only

time dragging me to night

where waiting crashes and falls

and certain death takes me

every night, leaving a trembling

girl curled in the middle of the bed

to face more of what, that,

nothing, shattered windows and

boarded up doors, hope doesn’t

stop here anymore, shadows

chase, sharp numbness

overtakes, stripped bare

and broken by tidal waves.


valentine’s day, 2013


i got on a plane (i didn’t)

to look you in the eyes (you said don’t come)

and the sun danced with me (it was raining)

flowers floating, tender embrace (lying alone)

you wouldn’t let go, you breathed me (sobbing silence)

and held, and held, and held (let go)

waiting turned to love (wait)

we are one (alone)

under the oak tree


little boy and little girl

met under the oak tree.

he gave her the sky

and an empty box.

she put them inside.

closing her eyes, she

smelled blue and heard

light linger by the boy.

and she gave him wind

and float of tomorrows.

gravity listened and smiled,

dreams of then and now

remembered, and within

embrace stayed.  and the

core of all was poetry.

For Sylvia, on the Day You Left

For Sylvia, on the Day You Left

This day the glass cracked blue,
the mirror was a window, no longer
empty space looking back into churning seas.
I hear you shriek, and shriek again,
this time it’s real: the uncut grass,
the bees and balloons, the shadows
and the moon. And you, you are the embryo,
the gift, the color of the sky that blooms.
There is a space for love.

But you haven’t gone, Sylvia.
You still whisper to me in colors, and when
I say “not good enough,” you turn my mirror
into a window. The words you send I write. You know.
I feel. You sent me lost, so I could be found. Sending
me your darkness, so I have hollow bones and cry
shadow tears, and you say ~ write. I try, Sylvia.
Don’t swirl me lost.



when will you be real? (who are you now?) 

i knew you once. we talked while the moon smiled

(she was listening).  but i don’t know who

you are now (does the moon know?) i ask you

to talk to me and you hide (you go inside). you lock

the doors, create someone new (i’m still here).

and silence (silence speaks). i walk into the sky

to search for you (that’s where you would hide), but

(still) you won’t be found. i was here (i think i was),

but you turned me into lost, too (lost).



and then Sylvia said you must.

squeezed my hand until it wrote.

and you. and all. now was before

to still. swirling know into colors.

and colors were feel. colors

of the core but not time. moon

felt. she said stay but there was

no leave. inside the sky. within you.

you know. nothingness is really all.

here is wonder. open. through.

and now hold. rise from ash to moon.

watch. outside in. begin.

house of cards


standing on the beach

as the tsunami of your resentments

overtakes me, leaves me gasping for breath,

but all I breathe in are words that seethe.

i remember, once, you called me a house of cards,

the cruelest thing you ever said


but now i am that, as you slam each card

with bitter brown water, swirling it,

pulling it down with years of angry.

there’s no house any more,

just a bunch of lost cards

you are trying to drown.