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.