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Lazy Poetry

(too much work to rhyme)

Don’t cut your hair

 

I had almost forgotten her

She was big, and her skin was satin

And she smelled like peppermint

And I could see every mole on her sagging skin

 

I had almost forgotten how she made Christmas

She invited us over, we had to shovel a path Through all the figurines she had

And she smiled when we talked of Christ

And she laughed when we prayed with her

Because she was praying the same thing for us

 

I had almost forgotten about my hair

She commented on it immediately and regularly 

And she told me never to cut it

And she told me she missed her own hair

 

I had almost forgotten to go back to her house that winter morning

She was going to let us decorate

And he opened the door

And he smiled

And then he cried

And then she said, “she passed on Tuesday”

And then we walked back in silence

And I didn’t cut my hair for a long time. 

Hunger

I was so proud of holding my hunger 

Smiling as waves washed over my stomach

Hoping the tide would eat away at the embankment of fat

Praying that the surf would wash away what I hated

Proud that I was empty

 

Now that’s a warning

A warning of ongoing pain

Neglecting my body doesn’t merit

A badge of honor

Something Undone

 

My bed is never done

It sits with all its legs on the floor

The sheets sprawling

Like an abandoned peel of a banana

I hate making my bed

I love other aspects

Of my newly acquired adulthood

But the bed-making can go to hell.

He stands on his four legs

And mocks me

As I lie to people

“I was really busy this morning”

And “pardon the mess”

But him and I both know

I won’t arrange the heavy blankets

And the pillows

And he'll still stand.

The Hallway of the First Boy to Hold My Hand

We bought taffy, the kind that sticks to you

To your teeth and fingers 

 

We ran down that hall

The one that is now yellowing on it linoleum edges

And we ran out into the first snow of winter

Catching flakes on our tongues

Out of breath

 

Did you know I still walk that hall?

It’s not for you, or for my memory

It’s simply utility. 

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